Why Can't We Be Friends?
by Super Chocolate Bear
Summary: Someone takes an unhealthily obsessive interest in Ray. Ray is not amused.
1. I seen you 'round

Disclaimer: I don't own _Due South_. The title of this story is 'Why Can't We Be Friends?' by _War_, and the chapter names are lyrics from the same song. I don't own that song, either.

A/N: This is set sometime during/after season 2. I've only just started watching season 3 (bless you ITV3), so I don't know Kowalski or any of the other characters that might come up well enough to write about him (or them, as the case may be).

_**Why Can't We Be Friends?**_

**_Chapter One: I Seen You 'Round for a Long, Long Time_**

His hat lightly grasped in front of him, Constable Benton Fraser made his way downstairs, nodding to his neighbours with a courteous smile as he went. To his private merriment, most of them didn't slam their doors shut at the sight of the Mountie. Ever since he had sprung to their defence during the John Taylor incident, they all seemed much more accepting of his presence.

Although Mr Letterman on the fifth floor was still quite secretive. Fraser presumed it was because of the exotic plant life he kept in his apartment; perhaps he thought Diefenbaker would soil it somehow.

Turning the corner and making his way down another flight of stairs, Fraser paused as he realised a certain someone was missing. With a sigh, he turned around and looked up through the fine wire mesh of the elevator shaft.

"Are you coming?"

Diefenbaker moaned indignantly. Fraser rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Look, the cat belonged to someone. I couldn't very well let you eat someone's beloved companion, now could I?"

The wolf just stared at him accusingly.

"You wouldn't very much like it if I allowed someone's pet… bear, say, to eat you, would you?"

Diefenbaker turned and walked up the stairs, his head held up high in a pose reminiscent of a sphinx.

"Would have been better off with an otter…" Fraser sighed, making his way downstairs and to the front door of his apartment building.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh Chicago air, the Mountie firmly locked his hat on his head, running his hand over the front rim in his customary manner. He stepped forward to the curb and looked up and down the street, checking for the familiar sight of a green 1971 Buick Riviera.

Nothing.

He looked down at his watch and confirmed the time.

9:30 AM.

Usually, Fraser wouldn't consider this unusual. After all, Ray Vecchio was not one of the most disciplined people he had met, and he rarely arrived anywhere on time (although compared to the people he had met in Chicago, he was remarkably prompt). Of course, that was usually because of Fraser's talent for finding trouble. But Ray was picking up Fraser on the way to some important business, so as far as the Constable knew, he wasn't responsible for Ray's delay.

In fact, Fraser had become so accustomed to Ray's timekeeping skills, he had gotten into the habit of coming outside to meet Ray fifteen minutes after the time they had organised the previous day.

The time they had organised being 9:15 AM, Fraser was somewhat perplexed by Ray's (relative) tardiness.

"Huh."

Fraser shrugged and decided to wait for another ten minutes before proceeding down to the 27th Precinct Station of the Chicago Police Department. Ray would naturally assume that Fraser had gone to the Station and go to meet him there.

Naturally.

After another brief pause, Fraser looked down at his watch yet again.

9:33 AM.

Something was definitely amiss.

As though in answer to Fraser's almost anxious glances at his watch, a loud screech of tyres came from his left from the street corner. Fraser looked over and heard a blast from a car horn, followed by a series of colourful expletives and euphemisms that the Constable had never heard so imaginatively put together.

The green 1971 Buick Riviera that Fraser had been waiting for came to a screeching halt in front of him, almost skimming over his toes. Fraser leaned down to look through the window.

"Good morning, Ray."

The detective shot him a 'not in the mood' look, and Fraser opted to simply get in before Ray decided to shoot off without him. The Constable removed his hat as he took his seat and fastened his seatbelt, although the rate at which Ray accelerated away made even that a difficult task. Fraser barely had time to close the door before the car began moving down the road.

The Mountie looked over at his silent friend, whose eyes were locked firmly on the road in front of him.

He opened his mouth to make some kind of small talk.

He closed his mouth.

He opened his mouth again.

Again, he shut his mouth.

This process repeated itself several times until Fraser found the right words. Ray obviously was not in the mood for small talk, so the Constable decided to get down to the business of the day.

"Where are we going, Ray?"

The detective glanced over at him, and then at the seats. "To get the leather re-upholstered."

"Ah."

Another silence followed as the car came up to a long queue of traffic. Fraser looked down at his seat, then at the back seats. He attempted to turn around to more closely inspect the leather on his own chair, but found that the seatbelt restricted his movement somewhat. His struggle to turn around grabbed Ray's already flared attention.

"What are you doing?"

The look on Fraser's face resembled that of a deer caught in headlights. "I just was checking the leather, Ray," he said matter-of-factly.

"Why? Do you not think the leather needs changing?"

"That's what I was trying to determine, Ray."

"I just told you that it needs re-upholstering! Why would I get the leather re-upholstered if it didn't need re-upholstering?"

"Well… you wouldn't, Ray, that would be pointless."

Ray nodded vehemently. "Right! So why bother checking the leather?"

"I was simply curious as to the reasoning behind the re-holstering, Ray."

"Does it really matter, Fraser?"

"Well, on a grand cosmic scale, I suppose not, Ray, but-"

"They why bother?"

"Well, Ray, one could say that about anything, if we were talking about a cosmic scale on which to measure events."

Ray paused for a moment, frowning in sheer miscomprehension.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The seats, Ray." He paused. "That… _is _what _you_ were talking about, isn't it?"

"I don't know anymore, Fraser! Why were you looking at the chairs anyway?"

"Well… I assumed that there must be some fault in the leather, but I didn't want to bother you about it, since you seem so… um…"

"What? I seem so what?"

Fraser paused. "…agitated."

"I'm not agitated!"

"You clearly are, Ray."

"Oh, really. I'm _clearly _agitated, am I? And on what great cosmic scale do you measure that?"

"Well, the fact that you are becoming angry at my looking at the chairs of your car."

"That's not unusual, Fraser, it was just because you were being annoying!"

"Well, I apologise, Ray. You are clearly not agitated."

Ray raised a warning finger. "Don't do that."

"Do what, Ray?"

"That 'trying to get me to calm down by agreeing with me' thing. It won't work. I can be agitated if I want to be! I'm not saying I am, but if I wanted to be, I could!"

The Mountie looked out of the window at the road ahead. "Ray."

"And besides, you think that _this_ is agitated?"

"Ray."

"You haven't seen agitated!"

"_Ray._"

"What? What is it, Fraser?"

"Green light," Fraser said, nodding at the traffic lights in the front of them. Not to mention the empty road ahead of them and the angrily honking queue of drivers behind them. His expression darkening considerably, Ray accelerated forward much harder than Fraser thought necessary, his head thrown back against the headrest by the sudden lurch forward.

"Are you _certain_ everything is all right, Ray?"

"I'm fine."

"Well… it's just that… you do seem… out of sorts."

"I'm… _fine_, Fraser."

Fraser paused for a moment, and then nodded. "Huh."

Ray cocked a sceptical eyebrow and looked over at the Mountie. "'Huh'? What does that mean, 'huh'?"

"Nothing, Ray. It's merely an expression of interest."

"Interest in what?"

"It's nothing, Ray."

"Well, good. Because there's nothing wrong."

"As you have said."

"Right."

"Right."

"Good."

They were both silent as Ray continued to drive through the city.

"All right, fine."

Fraser looked over at Ray with an interested expression.

"The reason I'm so…"

"Agitated," Fraser supplied.

Ray nodded. "…Agitated, is because-"

"Red light, Ray."

The detective's eyes widened in alarm as he slammed his foot down on the brake, causing the two of them to lurch forward in their seats.

"As you were saying?"

Ray sighed. "Fine, fine. I was in a bar last night."

Fraser paused. "That's it?"

"No, that's not it!" Ray said. "What, you think I'd get upset about going to a bar?"

"Well, no Ray. The pause just seemed indicative of something."

"What pause?"

"The pause."

"I didn't pause."

"You did, Ray. You said 'I was in a bar last night', and then paused."

"That wasn't a pause."

"I suppose that _would _depend on your definition of how long a pause was."

"Exactly. What you call a pause, I call stopping to catch a breath."

Fraser nodded. "Very well, Ray."

"And besides, what if I did pause? This is a very difficult thing for me to do, all right?"

"I apologise."

"I'm not saying it was a pause, though."

"Of course not, Ray."

"Don't do that! You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?"

"Agreeing with me to calm me down!"

"I didn't notice, but if I did agree with you, I apologise."

Ray nodded. "That's better."

"Please continue."

The detective took a breath. "All right. Anyway, I was in this bar last night, and-"

Ray paused as he noticed Fraser staring at him rather intensely. Feeling slightly awkward at the unwavering eyes of the Constable, Ray backed up slightly.

"Uh… Fraser?"

He snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face, but to no effect. Slowly, Ray realised that Fraser was not looking at him, but rather over his shoulder and out of the window. Ray turned and saw what had grabbed the Mountie's attention. A masked robber was robbing a convenience store. The robber backed out of the store, pointing his shotgun at the terrified customers before running off down the street.

Ray turned to look at Fraser, who had already gotten out of the car and was making his way down the street after the criminal. With a roll of his eyes and a tired sigh, Ray opened the door pulled himself out of his car.

The criminal turned a corner, heading down an alleyway and towards a wall that blocked his path. Leaping up, he managed to struggle up over the wall and jump onto the other side. Fraser stopped at the mouth of the alleyway and looked up and down the either side. Spotting a drain pipe going all the way up the building, the Mountie quickly latched onto it and hauled himself up the building.

Ray groaned as he saw the two different methods of pursuit before him. Either climb over the wall and most likely fall over the other side, or climb up an already wobbling pipe and most _definitely _fall to the ground. Looking determinedly at the wall ahead of him, Ray ran at it, preparing himself to take a flying leap.

Fraser, meanwhile, was already on the roof of the building, rapidly making his way to the ledge. He looked down to see the robber tearing down the street as fast as his legs could take him. Fraser took off in pursuit, leaping from rooftop to rooftop as he gradually caught up with his quarry.

Ray managed to clamber over the wall and fall to the ground on the other side.

The criminal reached the end of the street and again turned the corner. Fraser reached the building that was at the furthermost edge of the street and, seeing a van parked below him, prepared himself to jump down. The Mountie fell onto the van, quickly changing the direction of his roll so that he was in pursuit of the criminal. Bounding forward, he landed on the panicking robber, flattening him into the ground.

Ray turned the corner, his gun at the ready. Fraser got to his feet as Ray brought out his handcuffs, quickly binding the robber's hands together. Fraser frowned as Ray remained silent as he pushed the bag full of money away from the criminal. His hands clasped loosely behind his back, Fraser leaned forward.

"Ray," he said, "I think you should read him his Miranda rights."

"I know, Fraser! I was just going to finish cuffing him, if you don't mind."

"Oh, I see. It's just that you seemed to pause."

Ray scowled and looked up at the Mountie. "Is that meant to be a joke?"

"No, Ray."

Ray turned back to cuffing the robber. "Good, because it's not funny. Not all of us can do everything at once, Fraser."

"Well, I can't either, Ray."

"I never said you could."

"Oh. Well. Perfectly all right."

He paused. A crowd seemed to the gathering around them.

"Ray."

"I'm gonna do it, all right? Just give me a minute to-"

"No Ray, I mean that we should-"

"Look! Fraser, seriously; I _have _been doing this for awhile myself. So just-"

"I think we should go now, Ray," he said, nodding at the crowd of people that were curiously looking at the display of law enforcement before them. The detective looked over at the crowd disparagingly.

"What? You've never seen police work in this town? Take a picture, it'll last longer!"

Fraser gave pause to the confrontational attitude of Ray. Usually, he was quite edgy, but certainly not to the degree he was being to himself and the public. Something was most definitely amiss.

As if in reply to Ray's challenge, a bright flash emerged from the crowd. Ray blinked and put his hand to his eyes, attempting to shield them from the bright light.

"Hey!"

In the confusion, the robber tried to stand up. Fraser quickly stamped down on his back, driving him into the ground once again.

"Ray, perhaps we should-"

Ray nodded, still rubbing his eyes from the camera flash. "Yeah, yeah, let's go."

He gathered up the criminal, pulling him by the arm to make the trek back to Ray's car.

Fraser turned to the crowd. "I apologise; he's feeling quite agitated today. Thank you kindly." With that, he turned to follow Ray.

As the two turned a corner, a woman from the crowd broke away and walked down the street excitedly, holding the Polaroid picture she held in her hand with the same adoration a child would have for a Christmas present. She looked down at the picture of the detective, stroking it fondly.

"Oh, my wonderful Ray…"

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(A/N: Well, that's the introduction chapter. The chapters will probably get longer, but this wasn't meant to be that long anyway. Just think of it as the teaser before the theme tune plays.

Anyway, what'd you think? Good? Bad?)


	2. I really 'membered you

Disclaimer: I don't own _Due South._

_**Why Can't We Be Friends?**_

**_Chapter 2: I Really 'membered You When You Drank My Wine_**

As the green car came hurtling around the corner, Fraser resisted the urge to grab something to steady himself. Their passenger in the back seat however, made no such effort to hide his discomfort.

"Hey! What the hell are you trying to do, kill everyone on the road?"

Ray scowled and glanced at the robber via the mirror. He bore a passing resemblance to Ian Macdonald, being about the same shortish height. When Ray thought on it, it was probably that resemblance to the chronic liar that made Ray hate him so much. "No, just those of them who don't know when to shut up."

The robber shut up, and Fraser looked over at Ray cautiously. "He does raise a point, Ray."

"What?"

"You _are _driving at illegal speeds, not to mention the more obvious danger you are presenting to the people of Chicago."

The detective turned towards him. "What d'you mean, 'obvious danger'? I'm a great driver!"

Fraser nodded out at the road ahead of them. "Elderly woman, Ray."

His eyes widened with alarm, and Ray swerved desperately to avoid splattering said old lady over his car. Fraser opened his mouth to speak, but Ray quickly pointed a finger in his direction to silence him.

"That one doesn't count. You distracted me."

"I don't think that's a valid excuse, Ray."

"What? Of course it's a valid excuse!"

"But surely a capable driver would be able to keep his attention on the road despite distractions."

"I hope you're not implying what I think you're implying."

"I wasn't implying anything, Ray."

"Yes you were! You were implying I'm a bad driver."

"Not something I'd disagree with…" the grocery store criminal muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the passing scenery.

"_You _shut up. And _you_," Ray said, pointing at Fraser, "I am _not_ a bad driver."

"I never said you were, Ray."

"You were thinking it."

Fraser rolled his eyes in a manner that seemed uncharacteristic of the eternally patient Mountie. "Really, Ray. How could you possible know what I was _thinking_?"

"By what you said about good drivers. Let me tell you something about good drivers, _both _of you," he continued, pointing first at Fraser and then at their unwilling passenger in the back seat. "Good drivers can drive over the speed limit and still be perfectly safe to the 'citizens of Chicago'; it's why they're called _good drivers_."

"All right, Ray, but for the sake of argument, hypothetically speaking, of course, what if one was considered a good driver, but their vehicle was sub-par?"

Ray looked over at the Mountie, a mix of horror and outrage knotting his features. "You didn't just insult my car."

"Far from it, Ray. I'm just pointing out that it _has _been a long time since you took the car in for a service."

"Well, it _would _be being serviced now, if it wasn't you spotting _him_," he said, nodding at their passenger.

"Hey, you could have just let me rob the place."

Fraser looked back at him, a sceptical look on his face. "I don't think that would have been very likely."

"Just what the hell is a Mountie doing in Chicago, anyway?"

"Ah, well. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father, and for reasons that, well, they don't need exploring at this juncture, I have remained, attached as liaison for the Canadian Consulate."

He nodded slowly. "Right… and you work with the police here, why?"

Fraser paused, and Ray's ears perked up imperceptibly, curious as to what the Mountie's answer would be.

"Well, as liaison for the Canadian Consulate, it is my job to maintain good relations with the people of Chicago, and as a by-product, I find myself working alongside the officers of the law in this city."

"But it's not your job."

Fraser scratched his eyebrow with his thumbnail in his customary gesture. "That may be, but I feel it's my duty to help them in any way I can."

"But it's… not your job…" the criminal continued, his voice and expression ladled with frustration and confusion.

"It is a _part _of my job. True, it's not one specifically stated by-"

"It's not your job, you son of a bitch! I was busted by some good Samaritan moron who thinks he's here to help everyone!"

Fraser stopped in mid-sentence at the sudden outburst, and Ray smiled.

"He's Canadian. It sort of goes with the territory."

While Ray amused himself with the perplexed look on Fraser's face, he pulled into the Chicago P.D car park, refusing to slow down as he swung the Riviera into the space. Pushing himself out of the car, Ray grimaced as he felt several raindrops land on his head.

"Oh, wonderful," he mumbled, looking up at the sky. "Thank you so much."

Ray turned and pulled the back seat forward, proceeding to grab the criminal roughly by the jacket and haul him out of the car. Fraser looked on as Ray manhandled him with an unusual amount of ferocity, even for Ray. He stepped forward and took a firm hold of the criminal's jacket, causing Ray to look over at him questioningly.

"Perhaps you should allow me to do that, Ray."

The detective paused for a moment, as if trying to understand his friend's reasoning, but simply decided to leave it alone. He let go of the criminal and gestured for the Mountie to take him. As the two made their way inside, Ray walked over to the front desk and explained the situation. Fraser couldn't help but notice his quiet manner when talking to the employee.

A few minutes later, and the criminal had been whisked away by two uniformed officers. Fraser looked over at Ray as they made their way up the stairs to the office.

"I suppose you want me to tell you what happened in the bar last night."

The Mountie remained impassive. "It's up to you, Ray."

A deep growl came up from the detective's throat. "Fine. We'll just leave it alone, shall we?"

"If you wish, Ray."

"Good. I won't tell you anything."

"All right."

"Even though you want to know."

"It's not a pressing concern, Ray."

"How do you know? For all you know, this could be life changing news."

The pair reached the top of the stairs and turned the corner into the corridor.

Fraser absent-mindedly tugged on his ear lobe. "If it was important, you would have no hesitation in telling me, Ray. As it is, I'm forced to believe the news must be somewhat embarrassing."

"What? It's not embarrassing!"

"I'm merely telling you the impression I'm getting, Ray."

"Well, don't, because it's not."

"Oh. Very well."

Ray remained silent as they entered the bustling office of the 27th Chicago Precinct.

"And anyway, just because I don't want to talk about it, doesn't mean it's embarrassing. It could just be that I don't want to talk about it. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know, Ray. In fact, there have been more than a few occasions where I haven't shared my feelings on certain matters with you."

"You haven't? When?"

"I don't think there would be much point going into this now, Ray."

"Why not? 'Embarrassed'?"

"No, Ray."

"Because 'I'm merely telling you the impression I'm getting'."

Fraser paused for a moment, and then allowed a small quirk of a smile. "Ah, I see." He leaned forward slightly. "Very amusing, Ray," he said, continuing on his way to Ray's desk.

Ray groaned. "I try to insult you, and you laugh. Canadians…"

Shaking his head, the detective followed the Mountie over to the desk. He had taken his usual spot sat on the other side of the table, but his gaze was locked on a sealed silver envelope that had been left on the desk. Ray cocked a curious eyebrow as he took his seat.

"It's for you, Ray," Fraser said, his voice reflecting the same caution that Ray was feeling. The detective carefully took it and opened it. Inside was a gaudy pink card with hearts scattered on its surface. Ray scowled and stood.

"All right, who's absolutely _hilarious _idea was this?" he said, shaking the card in the air. The other occupants of the room looked over at him vacantly, including Huey, who was Ray's first suspect. The only response was a collective murmuring of 'I don't know' and some shrugging before they got back to their work.

"I don't think they did it, Ray," Fraser said as Ray slowly sat back down.

"Yeah, I got that feeling." He looked back down at the card and opened it, another smaller piece of card falling out as he did so. He picked it up and frowned.

"Ray?" Fraser asked, concerned by the sudden change in his friend's expression. "What is it?"

Silently, the detective turned the card around to reveal a photo of him taken in black and white. It was him sat on a bar stool, his attention obviously not on the photographer. Fraser carefully took the photo from his partner.

"This is-?"

Ray nodded.

"And you didn't-?"

Ray shook his head.

"Hm."

The detective looked down at the card and read what was written there while Fraser examined the photo, being careful only to hold it by the corners. After finishing reading, Ray tossed the card down onto the table, groaning and running his hand over his balding head as he let out a deep breath. Fraser looked down at the card before looking up at Ray with a 'May I?' expression.

Ray nodded, and the Mountie picked up the card, again being careful only to hold it by the corners. Both eyebrows shot up as he read what was written on the card in rather exquisite handwriting. He let out a deep breath in a similar manner to Ray had as he placed the card down on the table.

"Well. That was rather…"

"Graphic."

Fraser nodded in agreement. "Do you know who could have written this?"

Ray sighed. "I'm not sure. There are plenty of psychos out there that I've put away."

"Any that you know have left prison recently?"

He shrugged. "I don't know; I tend to lose track of them once they're in."

"Understandable."

They heard someone clearing their throat next to them. They turned to see Elaine holding a bouquet of roses and a bottle of wine. Paying no attention to the items, Ray nodded in greeting.

"Elaine, could you run a check on anyone I've put away who's out of prison now?"

The Civilian Aid officer pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at the detective, glancing down at the flowers.

"What? Oh, right. Nice flowers."

She smiled. "Thank you, Ray. But they're not mine." She handed them and the bottle of wine to him, the look of disbelief on the detective's face causing much amusement for her.

"Oh, no… You- you're kidding."

"Oh no, I'm quite serious," Elaine replied, blatantly fighting the grin on her face.

Fraser sniffed the roses from where he was sat. "A rather fresh batch, too."

"Oh, _well_. I can at least take comfort in the fact that my stalker has a rose garden."

"And a dirty imagination…" Elaine commented, reading the open card from where she stood.

Ray quickly slammed the card shut. "Hey, that's evidence; no reading."

"There's no harm in her reading it, Ray," Fraser added.

"Thank you, Fraser," Elaine said.

Ray glared at the Mountie. "Yes, thank you _kindly _Fraser. And thank _you _kindly, Elaine. Anything else? Got a pie you want to splat on my face?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you kindly, Elaine," Fraser said, the polite smile on his face making it impossible for Ray to determine what exactly he was thanking her for.

Elaine nodded in response. "You're very welcome, Fraser. I'll get on to those files when I can, Ray, but you've put a lot of people away; it could take awhile."

He sighed and nodded. "All right. Thanks." Elaine nodded and went back to her desk.

After reading the note attached to the flowers, Ray groaned and let his forehead thud on the desk in front of him.

"Doesn't that hurt, Ray?"

"Yes, Fraser. Yes it does," he replied, his voice slightly muffled by the table.

Keeping his head face down on the table, he handed the note to Fraser, whose eyebrows once again shot up, almost disappearing into his hairline. Ray looked up and saw the Mountie's cheeks go slightly redder.

"Well," he began, clearing his throat and tugging at his collar, "that's certainly…"

"Graphic."

"Slightly… more so than the last."

"Just slightly, Fraser, yeah. I didn't even know that position _existed_."

"Well, I…" he cleared his throat again, "yes, that would, uh, certainly seem the case…"

Ray smiled slightly. "You're not embarrassed by this, are you, Benny?"

"Of course not, Ray. It's a… natural part of, um… life, as it were."

"Not even… this part?" he asked with a smirk, pointing to a particular sentence on the note.

Fraser again cleared his throat. "Most certainly _not _that part." He looked around the room. "I think the thermostat must be in error. It's slightly hotter in here than usual."

"Yeah, I bet it is."

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Fraser pulled himself out of the car and put his Stetson on as he did so.

"Thanks for the ride, Ray."

"No problem, Benny. I'm going to go see if I can still get this thing reupholstered and then head back to the station. Maybe they'll be able to find some fingerprints on the card."

"Are you sure that's wise, Ray?"

"What?"

"Well, considering you have received not one, but two messages from an unknown source, and one who seems to be able to see you without you seeing them-"

"Benny."

"Yes, Ray?"

"Stop."

"Yes, Ray."

"If this guy-"

"-or girl."

"-or girl wanted to whack, maim or otherwise damage me, they would have done it already, don't you think?"

"Well, that would depend on the person, Ray. The insane rarely have any kind of logic to their actions; whoever the sender was, they may have some kind of twisted reasoning as to why they haven't attacked you yet. Reasoning that could change at a moment's notice."

"Benny, seriously, stop worrying. I have a gun, I know how to punch a guy-"

"-or girl."

"-or g… no! I wouldn't punch a-" Ray sighed. "Look, the point is, don't worry about it."

"If you're sure, Ray."

"I'm sure."

"Because you have no idea when this person could strike at you. They could have already done something to hurt you."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Like what, Fraser?"

"Car bomb, mail bomb, perhaps striking at your family. Stalking is a serious business, Ray, and not one to be taken as lightly as you are."

"Look, Benny, you're being too paranoid. For all we know, this could be some practical joke."

"It doesn't strike me as particularly amusing, Ray."

"Yeah, I know," Ray muttered back, before shaking the negativity from his head. "Look, you've got a job to do, I've got things to do… let's just talk about this later, all right?"

Fraser paused. "All right, Ray."

"Pick you up at 7:00? We'll try that Chinese place that just opened up."

He nodded. "Right."

He closed the door, and Ray pulled away. The Mountie shook his head as he turned to walk up the stairs. It seemed odd to him that Ray seemed more at ease now that his life was possibly in danger than he did earlier in the day, when there was nothing to be displeased about.

He took off his Stetson as he entered the Consulate, and made his way up the stairs, admiring the paintings of the Canadian landscape hung on the wall as he always did. As he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed that Turnbull wasn't at his desk. Silently looking around the room, Fraser ducked slightly to see if Turnbull was under the table as he was the last time he seemingly disappeared.

No sign of the Constable there, either.

Suddenly, the door to Inspector Thatcher's room opened, and Turnbull quickly slid out, closing the door behind him in such a way it made it impossible for Fraser to see inside, even if he were looking.

Which he wasn't, of course.

"Ah, Constable Fraser," Turnbull said, smiling politely. "Nice to see you."

"Good afternoon, Constable Turnbull." He heard some shuffling coming from Thatcher's room. "Is… everything all right?"

"Fine. Everything's fine," Turnbull quickly replied, smiling unconvincingly.

A loud thud came from the room behind Turnbull, followed by a loud and angry groan.

"You're certain?" Fraser said, taking a step forward.

"Very certain," Turnbull said, taking a step to his side to cover the doorknob.

"Because there seems to be some sort of commotion coming from Inspector Thatcher's room."

"Oh, _that_. That's, um… that's nothing."

The doorknob began to rattle angrily, and Turnbull quickly grabbed it, the action hidden from Fraser's view.

Thatcher's came from behind the door, the thick wood muffling her voice. "Turnbull?"

"Um… yes sir?"

"The door's stuck."

Fraser cocked an eyebrow, and Turnbull smiled at him nervously.

"Err, no, no, it's… it's fine."

The doorknob rattled again. "No, it's stuck. I can't open the door."

Fraser stepped forward again. "I believe that's because Constable Turnbull is holding it, sir."

There was a silence behind the door.

"Is that Fraser?"

"Ah, yes sir," Turnbull said.

"I see."

Another silence.

"Constable Fraser, would you mind beginning your shift now?"

The Mountie paused. "Well, no ma'am, but I would feel irresponsible if I left while you were in some sort of crisis, and-"

"Fraser."

"Yes, sir."

"Go."

"Yes, sir."

He turned on his heel and made his way out, heading down the stairs. Turnbull waited until he heard the entrance doors open and then close before tentatively releasing his grip on the doorknob. Thatcher poked her head out, and turned to Turnbull.

"He's gone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I need some help in here."

"Yes, sir. But if I might ask, why didn't you want Constable Fraser to know?"

"Well, it's a situation that could be considered… embarrassing to a colleague."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Turnbull?"

"I'm a colleague."

"Yes, well, I'm comfortable with you helping and not Fraser because…" Thatcher paused. "Well, because…"

"Yes, sir?" Turnbull had his eyebrows raised inquisitively.

Thatcher sighed. "Just get in here and help, Turnbull."

"Yes, sir."

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Ray glared at the man at the desk. "What do you mean, 'my window's expired'?"

"Just that, Mac. You're too late. We got someone else in who knows how to get here on time," he said, the cigarette wiggling up and down in his mouth as he spoke.

"Look, I'm a cop. Sometimes things get in the way."

"Oh, you have a job. Big flipping whoop. So did the other guy, but he still managed to get here on time."

Ray sighed. "All right, when can I book another appointment?"

"We're all booked up for the next two months."

"_Two months?"_

"Let's see… two months from now… how does the 22nd grab ya?"

Ray's glare turned into a scowl. "Fine."

The man wrote it down in his log book, and slammed the book shut as Ray turned and walked out as angrily as he could manage.

"And don't be late," the man said, grinning.

Ray got into his car and slammed the door shut. He sat in silence for a moment, and sighed. He rubbed his eyes for a moment, before turning on the ignition and setting off to his next destination.

A blonde haired woman stepped out from her hiding place behind a street corner, and walked into the car workshop, having seen the entire exchange from the window. The same man looked up at her with a look that was altogether different than he how he had earlier looked at Ray.

She reached into her jacket and pulled out her Beretta, the light bouncing off its black, shiny surface.

The significance of what she had just done quickly registered on the man's face, whose lusty smirk rapidly turned into horror as he quickly put up his hands.

"Give him a new window."

"W…what?"

"Ray Vecchio! Give Ray an earlier window!" she said, pointing to the log book. Panicking, he opened the book with shaking hands, struggling to hold the pen as he crossed out another customer's name and put in Ray Vecchio's.

"There… I've done it… he's got one in two days time, all right?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Good."

She aimed and fired.

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(A/N: Well, aside from the bottle of wine, this chapter didn't have much to do with the title. But that's the way the lyrics go, so who am I to complain? Hopefully I'll be able to make the chapters more relevant to the chapter titles as I go along.

Reviews appreciated. Thank you kindly.)


	3. I seen you walkin'

Disclaimer: I don't own _Due South._

_**Why Can't We Be Friends?**_

**_Chapter Three – I Seen You Walkin' Down in Chinatown_**

As Ray Vecchio stepped out of his car, he paused as he realised something was missing. He turned to Fraser, who was getting out of his side of the car.

"Where's Diefenbaker?"

The Mountie sighed. "Oh, he's off sulking about something or other."

"He's a wolf, Fraser. Wolves don't sulk," Ray replied as he made his way around the car.

"Well, you wouldn't typically think so, but the fact remains that Dief is sat at home despondent about some infraction that I have committed."

"'Infraction'? Benny, he's a _wolf_. He doesn't have rules that you can infract."

"On the contrary, Ray. Wolves have a stricter code of conduct than they would have us believe."

"Yeah, it's all one big wolf conspiracy."

A teasing look crossed Fraser's face. "Perhaps, Ray."

"What is it? The cat incident?"

"Most likely, Ray. Even after all this time, I still don't think he fully grasps the way one should behave in Chicago." Fraser shook his head. "Though I've certainly told him enough times," he muttered quietly.

The detective smiled as he entered the auto-shop he had visited the day previous. His smile disappeared as he took in the surroundings, quickly replaced by a troubled grimace.

The glass booth had several bullet holes cracking its smudged surface, and Ray could only so easily guess the fate of the man behind the counter who had tested his patience the previous day.

Fraser pulled out some evidence examination gloves and put them on, letting go of the cuffs after he had pulled them down with a snapping noise.

Ray looked over at him. "Why do you have those with you?"

"It's not important, Ray," Fraser replied quietly, making his way cautiously over to the scene of the crime.

Ray looked over and saw Huey finishing up taking a statement from the co-owner of the auto-shop. Huey nodded a thanks to the man and turned to look at Ray, beckoning him over.

"What happened? When?" Ray asked quickly, prompting Huey to put up his hands in mock surrender.

"Calm down, Vecchio. He says that he saw you come in and heard you leave about five minutes later after arguing with Mr Roberts," he said, pointing to the counter where Fraser was now inspecting seemingly everything in sight.

Ray rotated his hand in a 'go on' gesture. "Then what?"

"Then there was a gun shot."

"How long after I left?"

"A minute or so, more or less. He can't remember exact times."

Ray closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, blowing out a deep breath as he let his shoulders sag.

"Ray. Detective Huey."

The two looked over at Fraser, who was looking at the logbook curiously.

"I believe you may want to take a look at this."

Curiosity overriding his caution, Ray made his way over, looking down at the log book interestedly. Fraser pointed at an appointment window where someone's name had been hastily scribbled out, and Ray's had been added, though the handwriting was barely legible.

Ray frowned. "That's not right…" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Fraser looked up at him. "What's not right, Ray?"

"He said he could only give me a window in two months."

Huey cocked an eyebrow. "And you accepted that?"

"He's the only guy who treats my car with the respect it deserves."

Huey paused for a moment, before looking back down at the logbook. "Well, something sure changed his mind."

Fraser nodded, and flipped through the charts, going week by week until he had gone forward two months. He pointed at the 22nd, where 'Ray Vecchio' was written in handwriting nowhere near as illegible as on the front page.

"Curious…"

Ray frowned. "He didn't get rid of the later appointment."

Fraser nodded, and Huey looked between the two. "So?"

"Well," Fraser said, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb, "it would appear that Mr Roberts only changed Ray's 'window' under duress, which would explain the almost illegible handwriting on the front page, and also why Ray's previous appointment two months from now was not erased."

Ray looked over at Huey. "Does this place have security tapes?"

Huey nodded. "He's getting them now," he said, nodding in the direction of the doorway on the other side of the room.

"Right. So we wait for the tapes, go back to the station, and see what the hell happened."

"That would appear to be prudent, yes," Fraser said, whipping off his gloves with another snapping noise, this one somehow louder than before.

Huey pointed to Fraser's gloves with his pen. "Why do you have those on you?"

Fraser opened his mouth to speak.

"It's not important," Ray answered quickly, prompting Fraser to quickly close his mouth. "We'll be waiting in the car."

Fraser nodded as he passed. "Thank you kindly, Detective Huey."

Huey watched the two go back to wait in Ray's car, and shrugged and shook his head once they were gone.

"Way too much time together…"

Fraser considered the intense look on Ray's face as he fell into his chair, simply staring forward, his eyes blank.

"Ray?"

The detective looked over at him, his eyes still expressionless.

"Are you all right, Ray?"

"Fine, Fraser. It's just-" he stopped himself short and waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it. It's not important."

"You're certain?"

A pause. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."

"It just seems as though perhaps you know something about what could have happened."

Only a few short months ago, that kind of astute observation would have surprised the detective. As it was, he just found himself smiling at how well his friend knew him.

"No point hiding anything from you, huh, Benny?"

The Mountie remained silent, and Ray nodded, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I have an idea what happened. But I'm not sure, so I don't want to start digging stuff up if there's no point. Okay?"

Fraser nodded. "Very well, Ray. I understand."

Huey knocked on the window of the car, and Fraser rolled it down to allow Huey to speak to them. The detective leaned forward on the doorframe, poking his head through the open window.

"I've got the tapes. I'll see you back at the station."

Ray nodded. "Okay. See you there."

"Thank you kindly, Detective Huey," Fraser said, a polite smile on his face. Huey just smiled and shook his head as he made his way back to his car.

The Mountie looked over at Ray as he started up the car.

"Did I say something amiss, Ray?"

"Like what?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Detective Huey just seemed to find something amusing about my thanking him."

"It's an American thing, Fraser. It doesn't matter."

"Do _you_ find it amusing when I thank people?"

Ray paused. "Uh… I meant… an _African_-American thing."

"Ah. I see." Fraser was silent for a moment as he thought on matters. "But not all African-Americans I have met have found my thanking people amusing."

"Benny, seriously. It's not a problem, so don't worry about it."

Surrendering, Fraser nodded. "Very well, Ray."

A pause.

"I just don't want Canadians to seem a laughing stock to my African-American colleagues and acquaintances."

"Fraser! Just… leave it alone!"

Another silence.

"Very well, Ray."

"Oy," Ray breathed in relief, shaking his head at the absurdity of the conversation they had just had.

There was silence as the two travelled back to the police station, the only noise being the sound of the engine and the sounds of the city. Ray pulled up to some traffic lights and began tapping on the wheel absent-mindedly.

"Just out of curiosity, Ray," Fraser began. "Do African-Americans laugh when _you _thank people?"

Ray slowly brought his head down until his forehead was resting on the wheel. Fraser gave pause at the strange turn of behaviour from the detective.

"Sorry, Ray."

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Ray shifted in his seat as he spotted something on the screen.

"There, stop, stop. Go back."

Huey pushed the rewind button, and the figures on the screen went back at double speed. The detective pressed play, and the three watched in the darkened room as Ray walked into the shop onscreen.

Ray and Mr Roberts exchanged words, and Ray frowned as he realised he was the last person to see him alive.

After finishing their conversation, Ray turned and stormed out of the auto shop. Mr Roberts chuckled to himself and shook his head as he filled in Vecchio's name on the logbook.

A few seconds later, a blonde woman walked into the shop, and promptly pulled out a gun, pointing it at Mr Roberts. After silently shouting something at Mr Roberts, she waited until he wrote something in the logbook.

"Writing in the name," Fraser murmured quietly, though Ray wasn't sure if he was talking to anyone else or himself.

Then the blonde woman fired. Mr Roberts stumbled back against the wall, and she fired several more times before putting the gun away and hurriedly making her way out of the shop. Huey reached out and pressed the stop button, filling the room with silence.

Fraser nodded to Huey. "Could you play it again from when the woman comes in, please?"

Huey pressed the rewind button and went back to the appropriate time. He pressed play and watched along with Fraser and Ray.

Ray looked over at the Mountie as he leaned forward, squinting.

"What are you doing?" Ray asked incredulously.

Fraser put up a hand to quickly silence him. "Ssssh…" He stared forward. "'Give him a new window'…"

Ray looked to Fraser in disbelief as he realised what he was doing: He was reading the woman's lips.

"'Ray Vecchio. Give Ray a new window'…"

He paused.

"'Good'."

Then she fired.

Ray's eyes remained on the woman as something clicked in his mind. He covered his eyes with his hand, rubbing them furiously. Fraser looked over at him as Huey pressed stop on the video recorder.

"Ray?"

He didn't respond. He simply kept on therapeutically rubbing his eyes.

"Ray."

The detective looked up at Fraser.

"What's wrong?"

Ray took in a deep breath. "It's my fault."

"Ray, there is no possible way that this could be your fault. This person has some kind of unhealthy fixation on you, and-"

"You told me to just go home. You told me that this is serious. But I didn't listen. And now the guy's dead."

"Ray, by that token, you could say that it's my fault for not convincing you to go home. You could say it was my fault that my father died because I wasn't there to help him. But it wasn't. There was no way you could have known that the stalker would take things this far."

Huey leaned forward. "Woah, woah. You _knew _you had a stalker? And you didn't tell anyone about it?"

"I didn't think it was anything serious."

"And we had no reason to," Fraser added, making the point as subtly as he could to Huey.

Ray looked over at Huey. "Play it again."

After a brief pause, Huey rewound the tape and hit play again. Ray squinted this time, focusing as intently as he could on the woman's face. He knew he had seen her before. There was something familiar there…

His eyes widened.

"I know her."

His two companions looked over at him.

"I beg your pardon, Ray?" Fraser asked.

"I know how she is…" Ray said quietly, before getting up and making his way out of the darkened room. Fraser looked over at Huey curiously, who just shrugged.

The Mountie got up and followed after his friend, who had already begun making his way down the corridor and to the office.

"Ray."

He didn't respond as he turned the corner into the bustling room, heading for his desk. He pulled his coat from the back of the chair on which it was draped before making his way over to Elaine.

"Elaine, could you bring up Debra Wilson?"

She blinked a few times and looked over at Fraser curiously before getting to work. "May I ask why?"

"For poops and giggles."

Fraser cocked a curious eyebrow. "Poops and giggles, Ray?"

Ray paused for a moment. "It's an expression."

"Of what?"

"What?"

"What is 'poops and giggles' an expression of?"

"It's not an expression _of _anything, Fraser. When I said it's just an expression, I didn't mean that it expresses anything."

"Then why call it an expression?"

"Because that's what it is!"

"Then why did you call it an expression?"

"Because that's what I say when people ask, Fraser. They say, 'what does that mean?' and I say 'it's just an expression'. It doesn't mean it means anything; it's just an expression."

"I see," Fraser replied, nodding. "So when would one use the phrase 'poops and giggles'?"

"When… when you do something for no reason."

Fraser creased his brow as he tried to understand. "Why would one do something for no reason, Ray?"

Ray smiled. "For poops and giggles, Fraser. For poops and giggles."

"I… see."

Elaine finished her typing, bringing up the file of a not unattractive blonde woman on the screen.

"Let's see, Debra Wilson. Was in the Chicago rehab clinic for a few years before being transferred to the psychiatric ward."

Ray leaned forward to get a better look at the screen. "Has she been let out?"

Elaine searched through the records quickly, her eyes darting across the screen. "Yes; a few months ago."

"So much for a full recovery…" Ray muttered. "Do you have an address on her?"

Elaine nodded. "It's a place in Chinatown," she said, pointing at the screen.

Ray grabbed a pen and paper and hurriedly scribbled the address down, before pushing himself up off the desk and out into the corridor.

Fraser looked over at Elaine. "Thank you kindly Elaine." With a quick nod, he had turned and was now in pursuit of his partner.

"Ray."

Ray turned the corner, and Fraser increased his pace to keep up with him.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray."

"What?"

"Who's Debra Wilson?"

Ray seemed ready to reply when he looked around, and, surmising that there were too many people, beckoned for Fraser to follow him. Fraser remained silent as he followed his partner outside and got into his green 1971 Buick Riviera.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, simply staring out at the heavy rain that assaulted the windows. It was almost hypnotising to watch.

"She was a victim in a drug dealer case I was working on." Ray said matter-of-factly, prompting Fraser to look over at him. "The guy treated her like crap, beating the snot out of her every chance he got, getting her hooked on the drugs he was peddling, and forcing her to pay double the price because they were closer. A real Romeo."

He paused for a moment, allowing that information to sink in.

"We tried- _I _tried to get her to help us bring him in, but she wouldn't. He'd messed her up so bad she thought he was protecting her and that he loved her. She'd been told she was nothing for so long, when I came along actually giving a crap she latched on to me. Eventually, she helped us bring him in, and she was put into rehab. Once she was out of there, she still had this obsession with me, and she was put in a pysch ward."

"But now she's out again."

Ray shrugged. "They must have thought she was okay, I guess."

"Are you sure confronting her is the best approach?"

"I don't know, Fraser," he sighed. "But she's out there killing anyone who gets on my nerves, so I've got to do something before we have a mass murderer on our hands."

Fraser couldn't help but agree as they drove away, heading for Debra Wilson's apartment.

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Sue's cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much. Her other cheeks were beginning to ache from being sat in chair for too long as well, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat in a vain attempt to feel better.

"Thank you for your custom, sir," she said, and the man opposite her simply scowled and stormed away in response.

Sue mentally scowled back at him. It wasn't as though it was _her_ fault the cheque had bounced. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath before ramming the smile back onto her face. She brought her lips to the gap in the window.

"Next, please."

A man wearing a long coat approached the booth, a friendly smile on his face.

_At last, someone human._

"And what can I do for you today, sir?"

The man leaned forward. "I want you to press that silent alarm button beneath your desk and get on the floor, hands behind you head."

The colour drained from Sue's face. "W-what?"

He sighed and paused. "I said…" He whipped back his coat and pulled out a shotgun. "Push the silent alarm button and get down on the floor, hands behind your head!"

Prompted by this sudden outburst, several men around the room stood and pulled out similar weapons. Customers screamed and panicked as the full gravity of the situation dawned on them.

The man turned back to look at Sue.

"Now. Please press the button, dear."

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(A/N: Not much to say, except thank you kindly for the reviews, and please continue to do so. It's very much appreciated.)


	4. I called you

Disclaimer: I don't own _Due South._

_**Why Can't We Be Friends?**_

**_Chapter Four: I Called You but You Could Not Look Around_**

Ray glanced over at Fraser before returning his attention to the road ahead.

"You want to swing by your place and pick up Diefenbaker?"

The Mountie sighed and shook his head. "No, he probably wouldn't come anyway."

"Has he always been like that?"

"What?"

"So… bitchy, I guess."

An almost offended look crossed Fraser's face.

"Are you implying Dief acts like a female, Ray?"

"Well, the symptoms are all there. Confusing behaviour, sulking, brooding…"

Fraser thought for a moment. "I haven't met many female wolves like that, Ray."

"No, not wolves, I-" Ray sighed. "Never mind."

The Mountie paused. "Oh, you were talking about female _humans_…"

"Yes," Ray sighed. "Yes I was, Benny."

Another pause. "Why would Dief be acting like a woman, Ray?"

"I don't _why_, Fraser, I was just asking if he's always acted like that."

"Oh." He was silent for a moment. "I see. No, he hasn't. It's only since he came to the city."

"Now how is it that a wolf can fit into the city lifestyle better than a trained Mountie?"

"I wasn't exactly trained for this kind of thing, Ray."

Ray let out a quiet laugh and shook his head, looking out of the window absent-mindedly as he drove.

"Ray."

The detective looked over at Fraser. "Yeah?"

"This Debra Wilson. Is she the cause of your earlier… aggressiveness?"

Ray grinned. "I knew it bothered you."

"Well, I never said it _didn't_, Ray. I merely decided that it was something that you had no desire to discuss."

"Which I didn't."

"Which you didn't, yes."

"So," Ray began, pulling up outside the address that Elaine had earlier supplied them with. "You _were _wondering why I was so angry, but when I tried to tell you, you go bounding out of the car after some punk with a gun. _Then_ you act like you don't care, and _then _you ask me whether Debra Wilson was the cause of my…"

"Earlier aggressiveness," Fraser supplied, nimbly placing his Stetson on his head as he made his way around the parked car. "And yes, Ray, that would seem to summarise the events up to this point."

Ray just nodded and entered the building, and Fraser frowned.

"Ray?"

"Yes, Benny?"

"_Does _Debra Wilson have anything to do with your earlier aggressiveness?"

Ray grinned. "Nope." As Fraser's puzzled and slightly irked frown deepened, Ray made his way over to the front desk, where an older man was struggling to balance his glasses on his nose.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly.

Ray flashed his badge, and the man struggled to see it. "Yeah, hi. Detective Ray Vecchio. Do you have a Debra Wilson living here?"

The man paused, and then turned, opening a book.

"Debra Wilson, Debra Wilson…" his finger trailed down a list of names. "Ah. Yep, we used to have a Debra Wilson, but she suddenly upped and left. After paying her rent, of course. I'm a strict housekeeper, you know."

Fraser stepped forward, smiling politely. "I'm sure you are, sir. May we have the keys to Ms Wilson's apartment?"

"It's police business," Ray added.

The old man nodded, and reached under the counter. Just as he was handing them to Ray, he paused and looked over at Fraser.

"You're a Mountie, aren't you?"

"Why, I am sir, yes."

"Why are you here?"

"Well, I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's-"

"Benny, stop. Let's just go," Ray interrupted, snatching the keys from the old man and making his way towards the elevator.

"Ah. Yes. Right away, Ray." He turned to the old man. "Thank you kindly."

Ray pushed the call button for the elevator, letting out a groan as nothing happened. He looked up at the floor numbers, and frowned as he realised none of the numbers were lit up.

"The elevator's broken. You'll have to use the stairs," the old man said from the desk.

Ray sighed. "What floor was she on?"

"Twenty."

"Twenty? Oh, that's just…"

Fraser made his way towards the stairs. "It's just walking, Ray."

The detective sighed and followed. "Oh, yeah, that's easy for you to say. You probably walked over three mountains and through a blinding snow blizzard every day to get to school as a kid, right?"

"Actually, I was home educated, Ray."

"Okay, okay. But I bet you walked over three mountains and through a blinding snow blizzard to get to the local tribal village or town or whatever, right?"

"No, I rode the bus."

"Really? No bitter fight with the elements? No battle against nature? No wrestling with packs of wolves and bears?"

"Actually, Ray, one doesn't usually _wrestle _wolves."

"Why? Too small?"

"That, and they generally attack at the same time."

"What, bears come at you one at a time?"

"Well, no, Ray. Bears rarely move together in packs."

"Oh, of course not."

Ray looked up the staircase and blew out a long breath. He looked over at Fraser, who wasn't even breathing heavily yet.

"You know, I carried you through the wilderness for God knows how long."

Fraser cast a curious look in Ray's direction. "Are saying you want me to carry you, Ray?"

"No, I'd just like to think you'd offer, is all."

"But why would I offer if I knew you were going to say no?"

"It's not about the question, Fraser; it's about the gesture of kindness and friendship that the question represents."

"That was very eloquent, Ray."

"Thank you, Benny."

"So… you _don't_ want me to carry you."

"No."

"But you'd like for me to ask you anyway."

"Exactly."

Fraser paused. "I see."

Ray looked over at him. "Well?"

"I'm simply struggling to see why, Ray. I would of course be willing to carry you if such a necessity arose, but the situation now is vastly different to the situation when you carried me."

"Well, maybe it _is _necessary."

Fraser looked over at him for a moment. "Oh. Very well." He knelt forward and moved his arm forward to wrap it around Ray's waist, aiming to hoist the detective over his shoulder.

"Hey! Hey! Whoa! Stop!"

The Mountie quickly stood upright. "Is something wrong, Ray?"

"Yes, there's something wrong! You just tried to carry me up some stairs!"

"Well, you told me to, Ray."

"No, I asked you to ask me if I needed carrying. I _didn't _tell you to just pick me up!"

Fraser frowned. "I'm afraid I'm becoming slightly confused, Ray. Why would you want me to ask you if I should carry you up the stairs if you had no intention of actually _being _carried up the stairs?"

"Because I carried you!" Ray yelled, exasperated. He sighed. "Never mind, Fraser. Let's just go, okay?"

"Should I carry you?"

"No! No, you should not!"

"Oh. Very well."

The Mountie passed him and continued up the stairs, a small smile growing on his face. Ray's eyes widened into a glare as he quickly followed his friend up the stairs.

"Hey! Are you messing with me?"

"No, Ray."

"You _are _messing with me!"

"No I'm not."

"Oh, you so are! Look, you're smiling."

"How can you tell whether I'm smiling, Ray? You're behind me."

"So you admit you were smiling."

"Why would I be smiling, Ray?"

"Because you're messing with me!"

"Oh, really, Ray. Doesn't that sound the least bit childish to you?"

"Exactly! So you should stop being so - in your words, by the way - childish, and just admit you were messing with me?"

"What makes you assume I was messing with you?"

"Because you were smiling!"

"We've had this discussion, Ray. You can't tell whether I'm smiling or not."

"Don't take that amused tone with me. Hey! You're smiling now, aren't you?"

"No, Ray."

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The door creaked open forebodingly, and Ray resisted the shiver rolling down his spine.

"Nice place," he muttered, cautiously putting one foot into the apartment. He ducked his head forward to look around the open door, and then pulled his other leg into the room. His nose wrinkled from the indeterminate odour in the room.

"Indeed," Fraser nodded. He sniffed the air. "Hm. It's…" he paused as he thought on it.

"Crap, Benny. The word you're looking for is 'crap'. This place smells like crap. It's just a curse word like any other. You've been living here long enough to pick this up by now."

"Oh, I know what it smells like, Ray. I was merely commenting that the furniture arrangement was very… Spartan."

"What furniture arrangement?" Ray said, gesturing around the room. "There's nothing in here!"

"Precisely, Ray."

Ray walked to the window and looked out over the street. Simply seeing the Riv from any angle was beautiful, but there was something about seeing it parked with all of the other cars on the street that made it stand out.

"Hey, Benny. Y'know, this apartment kinda reminds me of your place."

Fraser opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it again. "I see."

"Well, obviously without the whole 'smells like crap' thing. Although the mutt does tend to stink up the place."

"Really, Ray. If you're going to be insulting to Dief, at least do it to his face."

Ray smiled. "Not planning on ratting me out, are you Benny?"

"If he asks, I won't lie. It's out of my hands."

The detective's smile remained as he shook his head, making his way into the next room. This one was just as bare as the main room, except for a stack of magazines and some film canisters thrown haphazardly in the corner of the room. Cocking a curious eyebrow, Ray checked over his shoulder to see what Fraser was doing.

The brown clad Mountie was inspecting the room intensely, rubber gloves at the ready. As Fraser made his way into the bathroom, he paused, obviously taken aback by the odour that came from within. Ray grinned and made his way into the room and over to the magazines.

Most were thin, annoying catalogues of useless gadgets and strange looking devices, but a few caught his eye.

"Find anything?"

Ray let out a high pitched yelp as he nearly jumped out his skin. His hand on his beating chest, he turned to glare at Fraser, who seemed quite surprised at the outburst himself.

"Don't do that! You don't just sneak up on people and talk in their ear, Fraser!"

"I didn't 'sneak' Ray, I was merely walking quietly."

"That's called sneaking, Fraser, and that's what you were doing."

"Well, it certainly wasn't my intention. I apologise."

Ray nodded. "Okay then," he said, his eyes lingering warily on the Mountie as he turned his head back to the pile of magazines.

"What are they?"

"Most of them are just catalogues for camping stuff and weird… things," he said, frowning at a picture of what looked like a toilet brush, but in fact had something to do with VCR's.

Fraser nodded at the photo canister. "And that?"

"I haven't looked at it yet."

The Mountie nodded and reached down with a rubber glove clad hand. He looked inside the lidless canister, closing one eye to get a more precise look.

"It's empty."

Ray nodded absent-mindedly, continuing to leaf through the magazines. He paused as he came across something that caught his eye. He turned to Fraser.

"Hey, Benny. What's the name printed on the label on that thing?"

Fraser looked at the canister. "'Joe's Photo Shack'."

Ray nodded as he looked at the leaflet in front of him. "Same place. Let's check it out." Putting his hands on his knees, Ray pushed himself up, pocketing the leaflet in his Armani coat as he went. He continued through the front doors and towards the stairs.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray."

Ray whirled on his heel, glaring at the Mountie. "What, Fraser? What?"

"You forgot to lock the door."

Ray paused. "Oh."

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The doors flew open as Ray pushed them out.

"…just saying that you don't have to say my name over and over again like that. I heard you the first time. I mean, God forbid you do that to someone who actually has a short fuse."

"But you didn't acknowledge me at all, Ray. I simply thought you didn't hear me."

"Trust me, Benny; I hear _every_ word you say."

"Oh. Thank you, Ray."

"Okay, now this 'Joe's' place is about five minutes away, so we can-" Ray's words were caught in his throat when he saw something in the back seat of his car. Fraser followed his gaze.

"Oh dear."

Inside the car was a photo of Ray from when he had apprehended the convenience store thief, a rose beside it. Fraser quickly looked up and down the street, and Ray soon joined him in his search. Looking over to his right, Ray froze as he spotted a wavy mass of blonde hair disappear around the street corner.

"Hey!" he yelled, breaking into a run, his speed surprising Fraser. The Mountie quickly adapted to the shock and was rapidly in pursuit.

Ray reached into his jacket to pull out his gun, but then thought better of it. What if it wasn't Debra? Welsh called him into his office enough without him waving a gun in some innocent woman's face. Not to mention how long Fraser would hold it over his head. Though not in an obvious way, as Huey would. The perfectionist Mountie would be able to communicate simply with a glance or an 'Hm' noise.

Ray turned the corner, and quickly ground to a halt as he hastened to spot the blonde hair in the crowd before him. He heard Fraser stop next to him.

"There," he said instantly, pointing at a stairway leading to a raised train platform. Before he even gave Ray a chance to reply, he was off, weaving through the crowded sidewalk, uttering 'excuse me's and 'pardon me's to everyone he came across.

Ray rolled his eyes, sighed, and followed.

Fraser charged onto the steps, taking them three at a time as he bounded up towards the platform. He quickly glanced around to check for the whereabouts of Ray and Diefenbaker, and felt a brief pang of disappointment as he remembered Dief wasn't there with him, by his side.

Keeping his focus, Fraser's attention was attracted to a blonde haired woman getting onto a train. The Mountie ran forward, but the doors closed before he could reach the train. Slowly and surely, the sleek locomotive began to move.

Fraser looked up and down the train for some kind of foothold or handgrip for him to latch on to, and found one in the form of a bar at the far end of the train, which was fast approaching him. Steadying himself, he prepared to grab the bar as it went by.

"Fraser!"

He decided to pay no mind to Ray, at least for the moment.

"Hey, Fraser! I- what are you doing?"

"I was going to grab on to that bar there," he said, pointing.

"Benny, you can't just go grabbing random parts of a train. Now, I know you have this fun obsession with jumping on, grabbing onto or otherwise latching onto dangerously fast moving vehicles, but this is just stupid."

"I don't see how this is stupid, Ray. The train hasn't reached sufficient speeds as to injure me, as long as I grab on at the right time and use the correct amount of counterforce."

The detective sighed. "All right…" he said, putting up his hands in mock surrender. "How are we going to do this?"

"We, Ray?"

"Yeah. This is my stalker, after all."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Ray."

"Why?"

"Because I don't have time to teach you the correct way to latch on to a fast moving mass."

"'A fast moving mass'? Who talks like that?"

"I don't know what you mean. And we don't have time to discuss this, since the bar is-"

The bar passed by, and Fraser quickly reached out. Unfortunately, Ray reached out at the same moment, the two becoming entangled into one another before falling backwards onto the platform. Ray winced as he heard something pop in his neck.

"I thought you said it wouldn't hurt…"

"That was when it was just _me _grabbing on to the train."

"Oh, so _I_ can't do these crazy Mountie things, is that it?" Ray paused. "Actually, I'm okay with that. Forget I said anything."

Fraser nodded, his Stetson having fallen off and resting behind his head like a pillow. "Understood."

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Lieutenant Welsh squinted as the sun glared in his eyes, reflected off the white of the multiple squad cars parked outside the bank. He made his way over to Huey, who was leaning on the top of his car.

"What's the situation, detective?"

Huey looked over at him. "Oh, bags of fun. This guy wants to speak to someone official, and apparently I'm not good enough, so…"

The detective handed over the loudspeaker, which Welsh took with a forced smile. "Thank you, detective."

He brought the loudspeaker to his lips and pulled the trigger. "This is Lieutenant Welsh of the Chicago Police Department. I want to speak to whoever's in charge."

After a brief pause, a terrified bank clerk appeared in the window.

"He s-says that if you try a-anything, he'll… kill m-me."

Welsh cocked an eyebrow. "Whoever you are, you can come out. Let's talk face to face."

The bank clerk's eyes shifted to his left briefly, his entire body shaking with fear.

"He says he's n-not stupid."

Welsh sighed and closed his eyes. "All right. What do you want?"

"He says that he wants one million dollars in cash, because the safe's securely locked."

"Right. And when-"

"Wait, t-there's more. He says it wants it delivered by-" He paused as he looked to his left at the criminal, obviously confused.

"Just say it, you moron!" A voice came, and the bank clerk seemed to jump three times his height into the air.

"He wants it d-delivered by the… M-Mountie and his cop friend."

Welsh closed his eyes and let his head hang. He turned to Huey. "Where're Vecchio and the Constable?"

"They're off looking into another case," he replied, feeling the same sense of impending doom as Welsh.

"Wonderful." He pointed at Huey. "Go and find them, and get them back here."

"Got it," the detective replied, nodding tersely and quickly hopping into his car, grateful for something to do.

Welsh let out another heavy sigh as he brought the loudspeaker to his lips once again. Somehow he knew that today was going to be a long day.

And somehow he knew that Vecchio would be the cause of it all.

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(A/N: Well, that's a little bit later than usual, so sorry for that. Not much more to say, except... review!)


	5. I bring my money

Disclaimer: I don't own _Due South._

_**Why Can't We Be Friends?**_

**_Chapter Five: I Bring My Money to the Welfare Line_**

Detective Jack Huey's grimace slowly transformed into a scowl as he found no answer forthcoming from the phone. With an annoyed growl, he cancelled the call, and tried to call Vecchio's phone again.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Still no answer.

"God damn it, Vecchio. Why do you have a cell if you don't answer it?"

He irritably closed his cell phone and refocused on where he was going.

"Okay, now think, Huey. Where would Vecchio or Fraser be?"

He turned a corner.

"Fraser's apartment…" he mused out loud, and decided to head there. If they weren't there, then he could always call Elaine for any leads.

After all, how hard could it be to find a Mountie and a bad tempered Italian?

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Debra glanced down at the phone nervously, hoping that it wouldn't ring again. When she checked the number, she recognised it as Detective Jack Huey's, and she didn't want anyone getting on to her and arresting her. Who would look after Ray?

A small voice at the back of her head questioned how taking his phone was helping Ray, but she quickly dismissed it. She could practically smell him on the phone. Ray, who had always been so kind to her. Who had always treated her with respect and attention.

Ray, who actually _cared_.

Debra sighed contentedly as she stepped off the train. She hoped that Benton hadn't gotten Ray in too much trouble by chasing her. She didn't like how unsafe life was for her Ray because of the Mountie. Not that she'd do anything about it; it was obvious that he was Ray's closest friend, and she didn't want to alienate him, no, certainly not.

But if Fraser kept on putting Ray in harms way, she would be left with little choice.

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Ray scowled at the elbow of his coat as they walked back to his car.

"Look at that!"

Fraser looked over curiously. "Look at what, Ray?"

"At _that!" _he said, pointing at a scuff mark on the elbow of his coat. "The finest Armani coat my money could buy, and you get it all scuffed."

"It told you not to grab on, Ray."

"It was _my _stalker, Fraser. _My _stalker, which makes it _my _case, which also means that _I'm _the one to grab on to the train using some insane Mountie and/or Canadian method! All right?"

"Well… no-one's _asking _you to wear the finest Armani coat your money can buy while working, Ray."

"Are you insulting the Armani coat?"

"No, I'm not, Ray."

"You are! You're saying that I shouldn't wear this thing! That sounds like an insult to the coat to me." Ray's eyes widened. "You don't think I'm good enough for the coat, is that it?"

Fraser sighed and rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb absent-mindedly. "I didn't mean anything of the sort, Ray. I'm merely saying that you don't see, say, Detective Huey wearing an Armani coat."

"No, he goes with substandard brands that try to _look _like Armani's."

The two reached the car, and Ray pushed the key in to unlock it.

"And besides, you're insulting _my _taste in clothes? Look at you! Half the time you look like a tomato!"

Fraser's expression darkened slightly. "Don't insult the uniform, Ray."

Ray grinned. "What are you gonna do, tie my hands in a Windsor knot?"

"Of course not, Ray. That would be cruel and unusual punishment."

"Right."

Ray's grin faded as he noticed that the car was already unlocked.

"What the hell? The car's unlocked."

"Well, yes Ray. After all, she had to get the flowers and the photograph inside the car."

Ray nodded in understanding. "But she got in without _breaking _in."

"She must have a key."

"How could she have a key?"

"I don't know, Ray. There are numerous possibilities. She could have taken your keys at some point and had them duplicated, claiming to be a spouse or relative. She-"

"All right, all right. Wait…" he said, looking up in alarm. "Does that mean she'd have a key to my house?"

"It's possible, Ray."

Ray swallowed loudly as his mouth suddenly dried up. "I'll call home," he said, opening the door and quickly flopping down into the seat. Fraser followed suit and got in.

Ray reached into his coat for his phone, and frowned. "Where-?"

He searched his other pockets, and looked around the car, searching for the absent phone.

"Ray?" Fraser asked, a curious eyebrow cocked.

"My phone. It's gone. I must have left it in the car, and she must have taken it," Ray said, staring forward as a state of slight shock.

"That would seem the most likely hypothesis."

"Oh, would it, Fraser. Would it really?"

"Well… yes."

Ray sighed and leant forward, resting his head on the steering wheel. "All right, let's get to this photo place."

"Are you sure you don't want to check on your family first?"

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner Debra's back where she belongs and my family's safe."

Fraser nodded. "Very well."

Ray started the car, ignoring the protests of an approaching driver as he pulled out in front of him.

"You didn't indicate, Ray."

"Shut up, Fraser."

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Huey knocked on the door yet again. "Fraser? Vecchio? It's Huey, open up!"

Still no response. The detective felt as though he were being watched, and turned in time to see some of the Mountie's neighbours close their doors, being drawn from their apartments by the noise Huey was making.

In frustration, Huey grasped the doorknob and turned. To his surprise, the door opened. He smacked his head in realisation.

"He doesn't have locks on his door…"

He stepped inside and looked around the bare apartment.

"Who _lives_ like this…?" he murmured aloud, wandering around the room.

After searching for a minute or so, he came to the well thought out conclusion that no-one was in the apartment. Huey sighed.

"Fine…"

As he reached the door, a shuffling noise from the window attracted his attention. Frowning in confusion, Huey made his way over the window, eyeing it suspiciously. As he approached, the shuffling got louder and louder.

Suddenly, Diefenbaker's head popped up in the window, and Huey nearly fell over as he stumbled back in surprise. He glared at the wolf menacingly.

"Damn it…"

Dief scratched at the window impatiently, letting out a small grumble.

"All right, all right, I get the message," Huey said, once again making his way over to the window. With some effort, he managed to wrench it open, and Diefenbaker sprang through. Huey managed to wrangle the window shut again, and turned to face the wolf, who was now gazing at him curiously.

"Do _you _know where Fraser is?"

Dief cocked his head, letting out another grumble, this one in confusion. Huey remembered Fraser telling him the wolf was deaf, and mouthed his words carefully.

"Fraser. Fraser…" he said slowly, hoping that Dief would understand him.

The wolf didn't respond; he simply kept on staring at the detective curiously. Huey sighed.

"Fine, whatever."

He made his way to the door, and just as he was about to close it, Dief shot through the small opening in the door, heading downstairs.

"Hey! Hey! Wait!"

Huey shut the door behind him and set off after the wolf.

He was beginning to understand why Vecchio was so bad tempered all the time.

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Ray rolled his eyes and sighed.

Again.

"Don't you have a computer for this sort of thing?"

The man behind the counter, Joe Caiman, glared at him.

"Don't need it. I've got everything in here," he said, pointing at his head.

"You've definitely got something missing..."

Joe glared at him, and Fraser stepped forward. "Take your time, Mr Caiman."

"Yeah, it's not like it's an emergency or anything, right Benny?"

"You're not helping, Ray."

"Well, this guy should have this stuff on a computer!"

Joe shook his head. "Computers are worthless. A power outage or a virus and you can lose everything. Easier just to memorise everything."

Ray rolled his eyes. "And what have you got, a photographic memory or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"No you don't."

"I do."

"Okay then." Ray turned around. "What colour tie am I wearing?"

Fraser sighed. "I don't see what this is accomplishing, Ray."

"The guy said he had a photographic memory, and I just want to make sure he does. We don't want him giving us faulty information, now do we?"

"Well, no, Ray, but-"

"But nothing. Let the man work, Benny."

Joe, meanwhile, was staring intently at Ray's back. "That's a nasty scuff mark on your coat there."

"Yeah, I know," Ray said, shooting a look in Fraser's direction.

"How'd it happen?"

"Ask him. His Canadian habits did it."

Joe looked over at Fraser. "You're Canadian?"

"No, he's just eccentric. And don't change the subject. What colour tie am I wearing?"

"Gimme a minute…"

"A minute? What kind of photographic memory have you got?"

"The thorough kind."

"Oh yeah, right. Of course. Thorough. For a minute there I thought you were talking bull."

Fraser looked over at Ray disapprovingly. "That's a bit unwarranted, isn't it, Ray?"

"No, Fraser, it isn't. While my family is at the mercy of some crazy lady who thinks I'm the one for her, this guy, who holds the only clue as to where the hell she is, has decided, in a well played move, I might add, to store all information about his customers in his head. Now, that's not to say that's a bad idea for someone who actually has a good memory, which this guy really, _really _doesn't!"

"Blue."

Ray looked over his shoulder at Joe. "What?"

"Your tie. It's blue."

Fraser looked over at his companion, a vindicated and more than a little smug smile on his face, though he was hiding it behind his polite Mountie façade.

Ray pointed at him irritably. "You. Not a word. And you," he said, pointing at Joe, "what's the address of the woman you sold this canister to?"

Joe closed his eyes and began massaging his temples. "Let's see…"

Ray rolled his eyes and looked over at Fraser, who was stood next to him, waiting patiently.

"…I used to send 'em to this place in Chinatown… but then she moved…"

Ray leant forward. "Yeah, and where is it?"

"You keep interrupting me, I ain't gonna remember."

Fraser put a hand on Ray's shoulder. "Of course, sir. We'll wait over here," he said, pointing to the corner of the shop.

He almost had to forcibly move Ray over to the other side of the shop.

"Ray, I don't think you're helping the situation by letting your emotions control you."

"My emotions-!" Ray yelled, before stopping himself and taking a deep breath. "My emotions are perfectly under control."

"Ray. You just had an in-depth argument with that man over whether he had a photographic memory or not."

"It's an important question, Fraser! He's our only source of this info. If he gets this wrong, we go to the wrong place, and Debra's at my house trying to chop my ma's head off with an axe."

Fraser cocked an eyebrow. "An axe, Ray?"

"Yes, an axe. You know, Lumberjacks use them to cut down trees."

"I know what they are, Ray, I'm just wondering why Debra would use an axe."

"Because it's the classic psycho murderer weapon, that's why."

"I don't think psychotics have any kind of weapon they use as a group, Ray. They simply use what they can find."

Ray let his head hang for a moment, before shaking it and whipping it back up to face the Mountie. "I meant in movies, Benny. In movies, all the psychotic killers always use an axe."

"What about in Alfred Hitchcock's 'Psycho', Ray? He used a knife."

"You've watched 'Psycho'?"

"Well, yes, Ray. It's one of the classic Hitchcock movies."

"You've watched Hitchcock movies?" Ray paused. "You've watched _movies_?"

"Well, yes, Ray."

"I thought you didn't have a TV."

"I don't. I go to the cinema."

"Oh. Wait, when?"

Fraser shrugged. "When I'm at a lack of anything else to do, and you're otherwise occupied, I go to the movies."

"And watch Hitchcock movies."

Fraser nodded. "If they're playing. They don't play them very often in the movie theatres in Chicago, but occasionally they will have a classics weekend."

"Classics week-" Ray stopped himself mid-sentence and shook his head. "Never mind. The point is…" he paused. "What was I talking about?"

"Axes, Ray."

"Right, right. The point is, this guy is wasting our time while Debra could be over at my house right now."

"Well, I suggested we go and check up on your family first, but you opted to come here."

"Yeah, but what do I know? I'm always screwing stuff up."

"Like what, Ray?"

"Like that little train thing earlier."

"Ah."

"'Ah'? What do you mean, 'ah'?"

"Nothing, Ray. It's just an expression of interest."

"No, no, you were picking up on something very specific there. That was a very specific 'ah'."

"Well, it's just that-" Fraser paused. "No, it's not important."

"Fraser…" Ray growled warningly.

"All right… it's just that, if you are admitting fault for the train incident, then I can't be held accountable for the scuff on your coat."

"Yeah, well- you- I-" Ray let out a frustrated breath through his nose. "Shut up, Benny."

"Got it!" Joe said suddenly, interrupting Fraser before he could reply. The two made their way over, and Joe handed over a piece of paper with the address printed on it. Ray snatched it up before Fraser could even see it.

"And you're sure this is it?"

"Absolutely."

"Not getting it mixed up with something else? Maybe your address?"

"Hey, I guessed your tie colour, remember?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything. I could have done that."

Joe smiled. "All right, then." He turned around. "What colour tie am _I _wearing?"

"This is ridiculous. I'm not doing this."

"Because you can't?"

"No, because it's stupid, you crazy-" Ray stopped himself in mid-sentence once again. "Fine." Ray stared at the back of the man's head. "Blue."

"Nope. That's yours."

"Green."

"Nope."

"Red?"

"Nope."

"Fine, then, I give up."

Joe turned around. "I'm not wearing one, smartass."

Fraser hid his smile as he turned to go. "Shall we go, Ray?"

"Yeah, whatever." He pointed an angry finger in Joe's direction. "But you _still_ don't have a photographic memory."

Joe just smiled and waved goodbye to the pair.

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The phone was ringing again. But this time, it wasn't a police call. It was from the Vecchio household.

_It could be Ray. Don't answer it._

Debra scowled.

_Why shouldn't I? He'll want to thank you for all you've done for him._

With trembling hands, she pushed the accept button, and brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"_Hello? Who's this?"_

It sounded like Francesca, Ray's sister. Debra had a few photos of her somewhere shopping in a department store.

"This is…" Debra paused. "This is Debra."

"_Uh… this **is **Ray Vecchio's cell, right?"_

"Yes… yes, it is. I'm just holding on to it for him."

"_And… who are you? Are you a cop?" _Amusement crept into her tone. _"Or a lady friend?"_

Debra blushed at the idea. "Well… it's nothing official."

"_Oh, I **see**… hand on a second." _There was a brief shuffling noise. _"Hey, ma! Ray's got a lady friend!"_

A voice replied from the distance, and Francesca's voice came back into focus on the phone line. _"She says she'd like for you to come over for dinner."_

"Oh, um… I, uh, I don't…"

"_Oh, come on. You'll love it, I guarantee it. Let's face it, if you're crazy enough to be with Ray, we aren't gonna put you off him."_

Debra felt anger rising in her at that comment about Ray. "What does that mean?"

"_Well, you know how Ray is. Anyway, I suppose you know where the house is by now, right?"_

"I, ah… yes, I do."

"_Great, see you here about six?"_

"I… uh…" Debra felt dizzy. She was going to the Vecchio household for dinner. To _Ray's house. _

Maybe she could even see his room.

"Sounds good," she said, smiling.

"_Okay. See you then! Don't be late."_

"I won't."

She hung up the phone and stared down at the phone blankly. "I won't…"

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(A/N: Not much to say, except… review!)


	6. I see you standing

Disclaimer: I don't own _Due South._

_**Why Can't We Be Friends?**_

_**Chapter Six: I See You Standing in it Every Time**_

Lieutenant Harding Welsh sighed. There had still been no word from Vecchio, or from Huey as to Vecchio's whereabouts. Not only that, but he was still being dependant on the hope that Constable Fraser was with him.

"Hey! Where the hell's my money?"

Welsh's attention was drawn back to the bank. He brought the megaphone to his lips.

"We're trying to find the Mountie and the detective. Just calm down and wait!"

"Well how about if I don't want to wait, huh?"

Welsh frowned. There wasn't much he could do at this juncture. After all, how many Mounties were there in Chicago?

The Lieutenant's eyes widened as something occurred to him. He once again brought the megaphone up.

"They'll be here soon, and so will your money, so just be patient!"

There was no response, which Welsh took as an affirmative. He looked over at one of the uniformed officers.

"Get the Canadian Consulate on the phone."

The officer nodded and left quickly, getting to work. Welsh hoped that this would be successful. If not, they were going to have to be dependant on Huey finding Vecchio.

Welsh didn't like those odds.

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Her hand still shaking, Debra managed to rap her knuckles on the door a few times before once again wondering if this was a good idea.

What if Ray was home?

What if he was angry with her?

What if Fraser wanted to arrest her?

She scowled. That seemed so very Fraser. To want to get rid of her.

The door flew open, and Francesca Vecchio stood in the doorway, grinning ear to ear.

"Well, hello there! You must be Debra, Ray's new lady friend!"

Debra smiled nervously. "Uh… y-yes, that's me."

Frannie's grin became a cautious smile. "Hey, no need to be so nervous. We're not gonna bite. Come in, come in."

"Oh, um… thank you. Thank you very much."

Debra slowly put one foot in the house, gradually followed by the other. She resisted the temptation to take a deep breath of the air in Ray's home, and simply smiled at Francesca, still unsure of how she should act here.

Frannie, meanwhile, was oblivious to her discomfort, having made her way past Debra and into the house.

"Ray's still out working on something or other, so we've got plenty of time to get to know each other before he gets back." She led Debra into the living room, where she sat on the sofa. "Have a seat," she said, patting the space next to her.

Debra nearly tripped up on her way over, fighting the urge to bombard Francesca with questions about Ray.

_Just play the part, Debra. Play the part._

"So," Frannie began. "How did you and Ray meet?"

"He…" Debra paused to swallow loudly. "He helped me out of a very bad situation."

"Really?" Francesca cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure that wasn't Fraser? You know, the Mountie with the wolf?"

Debra frowned. "No, it was Ray. Why would you think it was Fraser?"

"Well… you know how Ray is, so I just thought…"

"No, I don't know how Ray is. Why don't you tell me?"

Becoming slightly nervous, Frannie laughed anxiously. "Uh… well… you know… Ray isn't exactly… well, _sometimes _he can't be very… he's not very caring sometimes, y'know?"

"Yes he is."

"Well, maybe he is with _you_, but with the rest of us he isn't very-"

"Yes. He. IS."

Frannie paused for a moment. "Uh… yes. I know." She laughed nervously. "I was just kidding, y'know?" She licked her suddenly very dry lips. "I'll uh… just go and see how Ma's doing with the dinner, okay?"

She got and left for the kitchen as quickly as she could without making it seeming like she was running.

Which she very much wanted to at this point.

She burst through the kitchen door and saw her Mother diligently working away at the stove.

"Uh, Ma?"

"Is Raimundo's lady friend here yet, Francesca?"

"Uh, yes Ma, but-"

"Is she nice?"

"Well, she's kinda-"

Her mother turned to face her, sighing. "What fault have you found with _this_ one, Francesca?"

"She's a freaking loon, Ma."

Her Mother gasped. "Francesca! That is an awful thing to say about-"

She froze in mid-sentence as she looked at the doorway behind Francesca. Slowly, Frannie turned, and saw Debra stood in the doorway, looking very threatening with a small knife grasped in her hand.

"If you don't approve of me and Ray, then there's not much I can do. But I can't have you trying to talk him out of seeing me, can I?"

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Fraser smiled as he looked around the city. "What a lovely area."

The detective driving next to him looked over incredulously. "Fraser, this place is worse than where you live, and where you live is _bad_, believe me."

"As you have repeatedly said, Ray. But I have yet to suffer or seen anyone suffer from repeated criminal acts in my area."

"That's because you're a crazy Mountie!"

"I don't think I'm crazy."

"Of course you don't. All crazy people don't think they're crazy. Otherwise they wouldn't be crazy, just eccentric."

"I see."

"What?"

"Well, I was just wondering where you draw the line between crazy and eccentric."

"Let me see. I like to wear Armani suits and have an obsession with owning mint condition green 1971 Buick Riviera's. I call that eccentric. You, on the other hand, like to jump onto fact moving vehicles."

"Well-"

"_And _talk to your deaf wolf."

"I-"

"_And _you taste things you really shouldn't."

"Oh, well, I-"

"_And _you fold your socks."

"I don't fold my socks."

"Well, all right, I made that last one up. But I can see you doing that."

"You spend your free time building mental images of me folding my socks?"

"No, I was just saying-"

"I have to say Ray, that's more than a little disturbing."

"That isn't what I-"

"I mean, I think about you from time to time, but not usually about what you do at home."

"Look, I didn't-"

"That's behaviour that, in your own words, would probably be defined as 'crazy', am I correct?"

"Fraser, I-"

"I thought so."

Ray's eyes thinned into frustrated slits as he frowned and glared at the road ahead of him. Fraser, a small smile on his lips, looked down at the piece of paper in front of him and nodded to an apartment building on his right.

"That's the address, Ray."

The detective pulled up next to the curb, still sulking about Fraser having beaten him. They got out of the car and made their way around.

"_I'm _not the one who's crazy."

"All right, Ray."

"Don't patronise me."

"I'm not patronising you, Ray. You said that you weren't insane, and I believed you."

"Stop doing that!"

"What, Ray?"

"Don't give me that. You're patronising me again, I can hear it in your tone of voice."

"As a rule of thumb, I don't generally like to patronise people, Ray. It demeans the other person to do so."

"Then what do you call all those 'thank you kindly's and 'of course you are, sir's?"

"That's just good manners, Ray." Fraser opened the door to the apartment building. "After you, Ray."

The detective grumbled something quietly and made his way through. This building was even more run down than Debra's previous address. Ray was thankful that they had Debra's address and room number on the piece of paper, since the man in the booth seemed to have a layer of slime on him, or at least _something _that would make him appear shiny and sticky at the same time. Both Ray and Fraser tried to resist shuddering as they saw him.

The two reached Debra's room in silence, and Ray reached for the doorknob. Fraser put a cautioning hand on his.

"Ray, Ray. We can't just go barging in there without a warrant."

The detective rolled his eyes. "You're not serious."

Fraser looked at him blankly.

"Of course you're serious." Putting on a fake smile, Ray deliberately knocked on the door. "Hello? Debra? It's Ray. Could I please come in? I don't want to hurt you; I just want to arrest you." Ray cupped his hand around his ear. "You know what, Fraser? I don't think she's in there. Oh wait…" Ray nodded in faux amazement. "I think I hear breathing in there. Oh, yes. It sounds very much like someone in distress. I guess there's nothing left to do except go in and rescue whoever's inside."

Ray took a step back and kicked the door, sending it flinging open. He stepped in. "Oh. My mistake," he said, smiling at Fraser before letting the grin drop from his face.

Fraser stepped in. "I don't think you were being genuine, Ray."

The detective put on a shocked, appalled expression. "Of course I was, Fraser. I'm insulted that you would… even…"

He trailed off as he saw the wall next to the door. On it were pictures of him doing everything from paperwork, to hanging around at bars, to picking up groceries.

Ray swallowed hard. "This is…"

"Perturbing," Fraser said, as shocked by the display as Ray.

Ray shook himself from his amazed expression. "Well, this couldn't get any weirder." He looked around the wall, and saw something in the corner. "I stand corrected. Hey, Benny."

Fraser slowly looked over at him, still in some small amount of shock from the sheer volume of pictures on the wall.

"Looks like you've got your on section."

The Mountie, slightly wary, made his way over and looked at the photos to which Ray was pointing. There, much in the same manner as had been done to Ray, were photos of Fraser, and even some of Diefenbaker.

"Oh dear."

Ray just nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say or even do at this juncture. His eyes widened even further as he saw more pictures on the far side of the wall, this time of his family.

"Holy…"

He looked up at Fraser. "That's it, we're going back to my home right now."

The Mountie nodded. "Yes. There, ah… doesn't seem to be much else here to find."

The detective led the way as they left the apartment behind.

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Constable Turnbull was confused. True, he was confused quite a lot of the time, but right now he was particularly befuddled. Surely if the bank robbers wanted Constable Fraser and Detective Vecchio to deliver the money, it would make more sense to simply tell them to wait until Constable Fraser and Detective Vecchio were available.

This charade seemed a bit redundant, at least in his eyes. Although, most people didn't really listen to him, especially Inspector Thatcher and Lieutenant Welsh. Not that they weren't perfectly nice people and fine police officers. They just didn't think much of him.

At least, that's what Turnbull thought.

"Sorry to pull you away from your busy schedule," Welsh said to Thatcher, though Turnbull couldn't tell whether he was being ironic or not.

"Oh, it's no problem," Thatcher replied. "We weren't doing anything serious, anyway."

Turnbull cocked an eyebrow at that. "Um, but sir-"

"Not now, Turnbull."

"Yes sir."

Inspector Thatcher obviously didn't want Lieutenant Welsh finding out about her activities in the office. She had been particularly reluctant to disclose the information to Constable Fraser as well, though Turnbull still didn't know why.

And yet, she had been perfectly comfortable performing the action in front of him.

Very confusing.

Welsh looked to Turnbull. "Now, Constable. Do you understand what you're doing?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm to pretend to be Constable Fraser while one of your officers pretends to be Detective Vecchio. We will enter the building and drop off the bag, prompting the bank robbers to release the hostages."

"Well put, Constable."

"Thank you, sir."

"All right, you go and wait over there," the Lieutenant said, pointing, "and we'll signal when to go, all right?"

Turnbull nodded. "Understood, sir."

The Constable made his way over to the indicated spot and waited with the Vecchio look-alike.

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Huey went to pick up the phone, and yelped when he felt something wet and gooey on his hand. He looked over at Diefenbaker, who was showing his fondness for the detective by licking his hand.

"Look, I appreciate that you like me, and it's flattering, really, but could you please leave it alone for a second?"

The wolf seemed to consider this, and with a slightly elongated grunt, turned his attention elsewhere.

Huey paused before picking up the cell phone, making sure that Dief wasn't planning a surprise lick attack of his hand. His fears abated, he picked up the phone and dialled for Elaine.

"_Civilian Aid, Chicago 27th Precinct."_

"Elaine, it's Huey."

"_Hi. What's up?"_

"Do you know where Vecchio and Fraser went?"

"_They went to a… Debra Wilson's apartment."_

"Could you give me the address?"

"_Haven't found them yet, huh?"_

"I'm getting there. I think they're trying to hide from me."

Huey could hear Elaine's smile on the other end. _"Hang on. I'll get that address for you."_

The detective yelped again as Diefenbaker suddenly took a liking to his ear.

"_Huey? You all right?"_

"I'm fine," Huey groaned. "Just some wolf problems, that's all. You got that address?"

"_Just give me a minute to look it up."_

Huey sighed as he pushed Diefenbaker away from him. He had better find Vecchio and Fraser soon. If not, he was going to be wanted by animal services for grievously injuring a wolf.

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"Not _THAT _Mountie!"

Welsh breathed a string of none too complimentary curses as he saw Constable Turnbull and the Vecchio look-alike being ejected from the building, the bag with them. Welsh frowned.

"That's a bit odd, isn't it?" Thatcher observed, and Welsh couldn't help but agree.

"You'd think they'd keep the money…"

Thatcher shrugged. "I suppose they just… really, _really _hate Constable Fraser. And Detective Vecchio, of course."

Welsh looked over his shoulder at the Inspector for a moment. "Of course…" he said, turning his attention to the returning Turnbull.

"Sorry, sir," he gasped, speaking to Welsh. "Sorry, sir," he repeated to Thatcher. He rested his hands on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath.

"It's all right, Turnbull. It's not your fault you're not Fraser."

Welsh and Turnbull looked over at her.

"What?"

They continued to look at her.

"It's not your officer's fault he's not Vecchio either. I wasn't making some kind of solitary remark about Constable Fraser. Why would I? It's preposterous. I'm going to go over here and… check on… that…"

The Inspector made her way into the crowd of police officers and cars, not sure where she was going.

Welsh slowly turned away, looking back at the bank.

_Canadians…_

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Fraser looked over at Ray.

"Do you really think Debra's gone to your home, Ray?"

"I don't know, Fraser. She's crazy. There's no way to tell what crazy people think."

The Mountie nodded his head sideways in acknowledgement. "Agreed, but simply look at the logic. Here she is, taking photos of you from afar, running from you whenever you get too close to her. This woman is obviously afraid of meeting you, much in the same way a fan feels nervous when they are about to meet their favourite celebrity. Why would she go to your home?"

Ray looked over. "Are you calling me a celebrity?"

Fraser shrugged. "I was saying that to _her _you are."

"What celebrity would you say I am?"

"I beg your pardon, Ray?"

"Which celebrity?"

"Ray, I don't think we should-"

The detective grinned. "No, no, no, c'mon. Which celebrity do you think I look like?"

Fraser considered the question for a moment. "Do you already have a celebrity in mind, Ray?"

He shrugged in a faux modest manner. "Well, I've got _some_ idea of what I look like…" He looked over at Fraser. "So? Who do you think?"

"Well… that is… um… I, uh…"

"C'mon, Benny. It's just a bit of fun on the drive over to my house. You tell me who I remind you of, and I'll tell you who you remind me of."

"I remind you of a celebrity?"

"Yep. And you aren't gonna find out unless you tell me."

"Well… we seem to be approaching your house now, so…" Fraser reached for the door and attempted to open it while the car was still moving, obviously not wanting to finish this conversation.

"Hey, hey, hey! What are you, crazy?"

"I think we've established that you think I am, Ray."

"Well, get your butt back in the car and tell me what celebrity I remind you of."

"You're not going to like it."

Ray shrugged as he pulled up next to the house. "It's just a bit of fun, Benny. It's not like this is going to influence my outlook on the rest of my life."

Fraser sighed. "All right."

A few seconds later, Ray exploded from the car. Fraser slowly got out from the other side.

"I told you."

Ray paused for a moment, and then whirled on his heel to look at him.

"Danny DeVito?"

Fraser shrugged helplessly.

"Danny DEVITO? How the hell do I look like Danny DeVito?"

"Well, it's not just in the physical, Ray. You bear a resemblance personality wise to him as well."

"'Not _just _the physical'? I don't look like him at all, Fraser! How the hell do you think I bear any kind of resemblance, passing or not, to Danny DeVito?"

"You said it was just a bit of fun, Ray."

"Yeah, but that's before you said DANNY DEVITO."

"I don't see what's wrong with being compared to Danny DeVito. He's a very talented actor, as well as being a respected member of the community."

Ray was silent with rage.

"Who were you expecting, Ray?"

"I don't know… Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino…"

"Actually, you _do _bear a resemblance to Al Pacino… more so than Danny DeVito… I wish to change my choice, Ray."

Ray pointed an angry finger at the Mountie. "Don't you do that."

"Do what, Ray?"

"Don't give me that. It's the whole patronising thing again. I hope you don't act like this towards everyone you know," he replied, making his way towards his house.

"No, no, just you, Ray."

"Yeah, that figures- wait, are you saying that you _do _patronise me?"

"No, I'm saying that I act a certain way towards you that differentiates from how I treat others I know."

"Really?"

"Well, yes. It wouldn't do to treat, say, Elaine in the same way I treat you."

"Oh, it's chauvinistic stuff, is that it?"

"Not at all, Ray. I treat Detective Huey differently, too. And Diefenbaker. And Lieutenant Welsh. And Inspector Thatcher."

Ray smirked as he opened the door to the house and went in. "Yeah, I know how you treat the old Dragon Lady differently."

Fraser cocked his head to the side. "How do you mean, Ray?"

"I mean-"

The two froze as they saw Francesca and Ray's mother tied together, lying on the floor. They looked up at the two frantically, the duct tape on their mouths preventing them from speaking. Ray ran over and immediately ripped off the tape from Frannie's mouth.

"Ow! Watch it!"

"Who did this? Debra?"

"Yeah, and let me tell you, you've got one crazy girlfriend. She was circling us with a knife for about half an hour before she heard you pull up and went upstairs," she said, sounding slightly panicky as she did so.

Ray glanced up the stairway cautiously. Fraser, meanwhile, had successfully untied Ray's mother and somehow removed the duct tape without the painful side-effects. She kissed the Mountie on the cheek gratefully, and he helped her to her feet. She turned to look at Ray.

"Raimundo, I do not want you seeing this Debra anymore."

"No, no, Ma, she's not-" Ray paused and sighed. No sense in panicking them anymore than they already were. "Yes, Ma."

Fraser had already moved past him and was making his way upstairs when he heard the sound of Ray's car starting. The Mountie looked over at Ray, his eyes wide.

"I take it you didn't remove the keys?"

"Yeah, well… Danny DeVito, Fraser, Danny DeVito."

The Mountie nodded. "Understood," he said, before bolting for the door, quickly followed by Ray. The two ran outside in time to see Ray's green mint condition 1971 Buick Riviera speed off down the street. Ray's head hung in defeat.

"Not a third one…"

All Fraser could to was put a supportive hand on his partner's shoulder.

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(A/N: Entering the home stretch here, folks. Only a few more chapters and then it'll all be over… well, for this story, anyway.

I think third Riviera is right. Let's see…

SPOILERS

The first Riviera was blown up by Ray to foil some Canadian mobsters.

The second was blown up by Frank Zuko.

Making this one the third (which also ends up getting blown up by Ray Kowalski in his first appearance, but that's neither here nor there).

END OF SPOILERS

I never thought I'd see the day when _Due South _was on every day. Looks like it must have been pulling in some good viewing figures over here in the UK, since ITV3 are showing the whole run again. While I do like the later seasons, there was something about the Pilot episodes and the first season that had a certain magic to them. Maybe it was Ray's bad taste in shirts. Maybe it was Paul Haggis. I don't know.

Anyway, review!)


	7. The colour of your skin

Disclaimer: I don't own _Due South._

_**Why Can't We Be Friends?**_

**_Chapter Seven: The Colour of Your Skin Don't Matter to Me, as Long as We can Live in Harmony_**

Detective Jack Huey pulled up outside the apartment building.

"Looks about as fun as Fraser's building," he muttered.

Dief groaned in protest.

"Oh, what? Who are you kidding? Your place is a dump."

The wolf stared at him for a moment, then tilted his head to the side and looked away as though to say 'fair enough'.

Satisfied at his small victory, Huey turned back to the building in front of him. Just as he was about to get out of the car, he saw a very familiar mint condition 1971 Buick Riviera pull up into the car park. Huey breathed a sigh of relief.

"Finally."

He opened the door, but paused when he heard a whining from the seat next to him.

"What?"

Dief let out another grumble, looking over in the direction of Ray's car.

"Yes, that's Vecchio's car. And Fraser's probably inside, so why don't we just…?"

He made to get out of the car, when he heard another whine. "All right, fine. If you don't want to come in, that's okay with me. You stay here and guard the car." He put up his hands sarcastically, waving them in the air. "I'll leave it unlocked to give it some _danger_, okay?"

Huey got out and slammed the door behind him, leaving a wary Dief in his car. He made his way over to the Riviera and found the vehicle empty and the door wide open.

_Now that's a bit unusual for Vecchio._

He looked inside the car cautiously, and, finding nothing, closed the door and made his way over to the apartment building, hoping to find some clue there.

Dief still whined in protest, and got to work opening the door with his paws. He had seen Debra get out of the car and make her way inside round the back of the building, and he didn't want Huey running into a dangerous situation.

After all, Dief was sort of fond of him.

Huey gave him donuts.

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Ray picked up the phone and dialled Elaine's number, trying to ignore just how much Frannie was thrusting her breasts in Fraser's direction as she spoke to him. If it were any other situation, Ray might have laughed at the incredibly awkward look on the Mountie's face.

"_Civilian Aid, Chicago 27th Precinct."_

"Hey, Elaine."

"_Ray? Is that you?"_

"Yeah, I-"

"_Where have you been? We've got Huey and half the Precinct out looking for you!"_

"What? Why?"

Fraser looked over at Ray's concerned expression. He turned back to Francesca, who was regaling him with a story about how she almost managed to fight Debra out of the house. He put up a polite hand.

"Um… excuse me, Francesca."

The Mountie walked over to Ray just as he put down the phone. He turned to look at him.

"There's a… situation at Teller's Bank. The guys in there want us to deliver some money. We'll have to deal with Debra later."

"I see. And… how are we going to get there?"

Ray paused for a moment, and then sighed. "Ma!"

There was a silence, and then his mother's disembodied voice came from upstairs.

"Yes, Raimundo?"

"We're going to have to borrow the family car, all right?"

"All right, Raimundo. But don't let Benton climb on it."

Fraser looked over at the detective, a confused look on his face. Ray smiled.

"I won't, Ma." He turned to look at him as he picked up the keys. "You won't, will you?"

"Of course not, Mrs Vecchio!" he shouted up the stairs, keeping his eyes on the grinning Ray. "I have to say, Ray, I don't particularly appreciate that you're telling your family I climb on everything."

"Well, you do."

"Not _everything, _Ray. True, I do use whatever methods I can to apprehend a criminal, but I don't particularly spend my free time jumping on things."

"It's just a precaution, Fraser. Like insurance against Mountie damage."

Fraser opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "I… see."

The two walked over to the car and got in. Ray grimaced at the odour that wafted up his nose.

"Ugh… baby smell…"

The Mountie in the passenger seat tilted his head up, taking a few short, sharp sniffs as though he were a dog.

He shrugged. "I find it rather refreshing."

"Why am I not surprised… you want to taste some baby poop while we're at it?" Ray mumbled, jamming the keys in and turning the engine on. "All right, let's go."

"Wait, Ray. Did Elaine say that they had sent someone to look for us?"

"Yeah, Huey, why?"

"Elaine would have given Huey the last address she sent us to, which would be-"

"The Chinatown apartment."

"And Debra already knows she can't go back to her new apartment, since we know where it is."

Ray's eyes widened. "…she could be in there waiting for him."

"I believe we should head there first, Ray."

"Do you? Do you really? Because I was planning on going to the bank first."

Ray pulled away as fast as the family sized car would allow, cursing the bad handling on the vehicle.

"Ray?"

"Yes, Benny?"

"There isn't _really _insurance for Mountie damage, is there?"

Ray sighed. "Yes, Fraser. Yes, there is."

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Huey put the key in the door and frowned. The door was already unlocked. Considering the owner of the building downstairs said he had the only key, this just caused Huey to worry even more.

Cautiously, he opened the door and stepped inside, looking around the room as quickly as he could as he entered.

The room was empty. He looked over to the left and saw the door to the next room slightly ajar, and made his way over there. Stopping at the door, he pulled out his gun and took a deep breath. He quickly turned and kicked the door open, holding his gun at the ready.

The bedroom was empty. He sighed and shook his head as he put his gun away.

"Jack, Jack, Jack…"

His phone rang, and he nearly leapt out of his skin. He thumped his chest a few times, trying to catch his breath.

Irritably, he picked up the phone. "What?"

"_Nice to hear from you, too, Huey."_

"Sorry, Elaine. Tense moment there."

"_Right… anyway, we've found Ray and Fraser, and they're on their way over now."_

Huey let out a sigh of relief. "Wonderful. I'm going to head back and-"

He didn't even get to finish the sentence before Debra struck him over the head with a plank of wood.

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"So… what acts are included in the Mountie damage insurance package?"

"Oh, for the love of- it was a joke, Fraser!"

"I don't think we should be joking at this juncture, Ray."

Ray sighed. "Right. You're right. Let's stop, shall we?"

"All right."

"Right."

They pulled up in the car park. "So there _isn't _Mountie damage insurance?"

"No, Fraser!"

"Oh. All right." Fraser peered over the cars. "There's your car, Ray."

"And there's Dief," Ray replied, nodding at Huey's parked car.

"That's Detective Huey's car, isn't it?"

Ray nodded in reply as he noticed the door was unlocked. He opened it, and Dief sprang out.

"What were you doing in there?" Fraser asked, and Dief let out a whine in response.

"I hardly think that's a good reason."

Dief groaned and looked over at the apartment building. Fraser followed his gaze.

"What? Already? That's a bit premature, isn't it? Didn't he see her get out of the car?"

The wolf barked once.

"I _wasn't _being sarcastic by asking you. I was more talking to myself than anything else. Really, you should stop being so touchy. You're seeing hidden meanings into everything I do, when I really don't mean anything by it."

Dief grumbled something uncomplimentary and walked ahead of them, going towards the building.

"And I heard that, too."

He didn't respond. Ray walked over to Fraser as they went into the building side by side.

"Problems?"

"Not really, Ray. I just think some of the more anti-social elements of Chicago are beginning to take their toll on him."

"Is that directed at me?"

"No, Ray."

"Okay, now I _know _you were talking about me."

"I wasn't talking about you, Ray. When I said 'anti-social elements', I _meant _'anti-social elements'. If I meant _you_, I would have said you."

Ray considered the Mountie's sincere expression for a moment. "It _is _me!"

Fraser sighed. "All right, Ray. _Sometimes _you can be slightly… that is…"

"Anti-social? That's what you said, right?"

"I think we should talk about this at a later juncture, Ray."

"All right, but don't think I'm gonna just forget about this."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Ray."

Ray ignored Fraser's tone of voice and continued up the stairs. The two heard a gunshot and froze for a brief moment before Ray pulled out his gun and the two thundered up the creaky stairs.

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Huey winced as he felt the dull ache throbbing at the base of his skull. His hands were tied behind his back with duct tape, and he was lying on the floor, curled up in the corner, though whether his attacker had done that or he had, he wasn't sure.

"Detective Jack Huey."

Huey looked up and saw a woman stood on the other side of the room, the window to her back. All he could make out was the silhouette of her body, though he could see that she had his gun, and was playfully passing it between each hand.

"I've seen you around at the police station. You're always making fun of Ray. Teasing him. Hurting him."

"I don't hurt Ray. We're best buddies. Why, just the other day, we-"

"Shut up!" she yelled, firing the gun into the wall above Huey's head.

He closed his eyes to block out the cloud of dust that travelled over him.

"Don't you start lying to me. _I'm _the one with the gun. And I'm going to protect Ray from everything I can."

"Then you'd better get down to Teller's Bank. The guys inside are asking for Vecchio and Fraser to deliver some money to them, and I doubt Ray's going to be safe doing that."

She smiled. "We'll see, won't we? I'll just head down there before Ray has a chance and-"

She stopped mid-sentence as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She turned and ran to the window, some keys falling from her pocket and clattering to the floor as she went. She climbed out and landed on the fire escape, making her way down.

The door to the apartment flew open and Fraser appeared, closely followed by Ray.

"She went out the fire escape," Huey said, nodding to the open window.

Not needing any more encouragement, Fraser went out through the window, followed by Diefenbaker, who cast a brief glance back to check that he was in good health. Ray knelt and started untying Huey.

"Vecchio. She's heading down to the bank to stop the guys inside. Something about protecting you-"

"Yeah, I know. She's a real sweetheart. Tied up my sister and my Ma and threatened them with a knife."

"Are they all right?" Huey asked, hissing through his teeth as Ray quickly tore off the duct tape.

"They're fine. C'mon, let's go. Hey, my keys," he said, scooping up the keys that Debra had earlier dropped.

The two headed for the fire escape when they heard a car start. Ray and Huey looked over at each other.

"Wait. Have you got your keys?"

Huey patted his pockets. "She must have taken them while I was under."

"Wonderful."

The two clambered out of the window haphazardly and made their way down as quickly as they dared without the fire escape collapsing. Looking down, Ray saw Fraser climbing up onto his family's car. Huey's car sped towards the exit of the car park.

"You promised my Ma, Benny!"

"Sorry, Ray!"

The Mountie leapt from the car onto the top of Huey's, somehow managing to stay on top by spreading his arms out to either side. The car sped around the corner and down the street, closely followed by Diefenbaker.

Ray looked up at Huey. "You may not have a car by the end of the day."

He sighed. "I'd kind of figured that."

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"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

Debra ignored him.

"Debra, I know you can hear me. The windows are open."

"You shut up! Who do you think you are, always putting my Ray in danger like you do?"

"With all due respect, Debra, I don't think that's your choice to make. Ray is the one who decides to put his life in danger to help others. I have nothing to do with it."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I do."

"Then you really are as stupid as they say."

She closed the windows, and Fraser sighed, gripping the frame of the car harder.

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Welsh pinched the bridge of his nose. Elaine had told him that Vecchio and Fraser had called in to say they were on their way.

So where the hell were they?

These people, whoever they were, weren't going to wait forever. And he and some squad leaders had already discussed an elaborate plan that involved hiding tear gas in the bag of money. Vecchio and Fraser would duck for cover, and the police would go on, praying that none of the criminals inside was holding onto a hostage.

One hell of a plan, Welsh had to admit.

He growled at how out of control the situation was.

"Sir!"

He turned to see a uniformed officer holding a phone.

"Yes?"

"It's Detective Huey, sir."

Welsh sighed. "All right, give it here. Thank you, officer." He took the phone. "What is it, detective?"

"_You're not going to like it, sir."_

"Just tell me."

"_Well… Vecchio has a stalker who stole my car. Fraser's on top of the car now, and she's coming to the bank at high speed."_

"You're right. I don't like it. I don't really believe it, either."

"_Sir. It's Vecchio and Fraser. These kinds of things are everyday occurrences for them."_

Welsh could have sworn he heard a protest from Vecchio in the background, but chose to ignore it.

"Well, we'll keep an eye out. In the meantime, just tell Vecchio to get the hell down-"

Welsh's words caught in his throat as he saw Huey's car hurtling down the road at them, the brown uniform and Stetson of Constable Fraser visible even from that distance.

"Clear the area! Out the way!"

Police officers and civilians scrambled to move out of the way as Huey's car came crashing through the police barrier and up towards the bank.

With an almighty crash, the car smashed through the glass doors of the bank and into the lobby, Fraser still holding on for dear life as they went through. Debra lost control of the car on the smooth tiled floor, and Fraser began to deliberately loosen his grip.

The car came to a sudden halt as it came into contact with the front desk, and Fraser let go of the car, flying off to the side and into what he surmised was a body.

There was silence for a few moments as the dust settled, the sound of the car's engine now gone. Fraser pulled himself to his feet, and looked down at the person whom he had landed on. He was dressed all in black, and wore a balaclava.

"Oh. Thank you kindly. Now if you'll just come with me."

The Mountie picked up the dazed and semi-conscious criminal as the uniformed officers swarmed the building. The other criminals were so confused and shocked by what had just happened, they were easy enough to apprehend. One officer took the masked man from him. Fraser heard the pitter-patter of wolf feet and looked down to see Diefenbaker entering the bank.

"Well, thank you for you concern," Fraser said somewhat smugly.

Dief made a questioning noise.

"Oh, don't play the innocent with me. I saw you trying to keep up with the car behind me."

The wolf turned away from him in a 'whatever' gesture and walked out of the bank.

Fraser winced as he followed his lifetime companion out. "Oh, don't use that phrase. It's so… so…"

Dief finished his sentence with a bark.

"Exactly. American."

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Ray watched on with his hands in his coat pockets as he saw Debra being wheeled into the ambulance.

"Is she going to be all right?"

He turned to look at Fraser, who had just spent the last half hour making a report to Inspector Thatcher.

"Yeah, she'll be fine. They're going to treat her at the hospital and then take her back to the psychiatric ward. Hopefully they'll do a better job this time, huh?"

Fraser smiled slightly. Ray nodded over at the criminal who was now being loaded into a police van with his comrades.

"And him? What's his story?"

"He's the brother of the man we apprehended today at the grocery store."

"You're kidding."

The Mountie shook his head. "No. Apparently, he was robbing the store as well, he simply left before we arrived."

"So… all of this was because you couldn't keep you super Mountie skills in check?"

"Yes, basically."

Ray looked over at his friend in mock surprise. "Why, Benny, was that a joke?"

"I believe it was Ray, yes."

"It was pretty good."

"Thank you, Ray."

Inspector Thatcher approached them, flanked by Constable Turnbull.

"Well, as enjoyable as this was, I think we'll be heading back to the Consulate now. We have other important business to attend to."

Turnbull looked over at her. "Well, sir, I think the Canada costume for the parade can wait."

Thatcher immediately began glaring daggers at Turnbull, who seemed to shrink to half his size. Ray grinned.

"Canada costume?"

Thatcher sighed. "Yes… there's this… little… parade… thing going on… and they might have… that is, they sort of…"

"Asked you to dress as Canada."

"…Yes."

"Well, I think you'll make a lovely Canada," Ray said, his grin growing bigger by the minute.

A guttural growl emerged from Thatcher's throat, and she turned to Fraser. "Constable. I hope to see you at the Consulate bright and early tomorrow."

"Understood, sir."

The two turned and left, Turnbull looking slightly fearful for his life. Ray laughed.

"I don't think she's happy with him," Ray said, and Fraser shook his head.

"I don't see why. It's a perfectly nice thing to be doing."

"Oh. So you'd be happy dressing up as Canada, would you?"

"Well, in a sense, Ray, I already dress as Canada, as is reflected by my uniform."

"I see."

Ray turned and started to head back to the Riviera. "I still need to have this thing re-upholstered."

"Is that really necessary, Ray?"

"What?"

"Well, from what I could see, the leather didn't need re-upholstering."

"Would you stop? We had this conversation earlier this morning, and I told you, I wouldn't be going to get the car re-upholstered if it didn't need re-upholstering! What would be the point in getting the car re-upholstered if it _didn't _need re-upholstering!"

"Well… there wouldn't be, Ray. That would be pointless."

"Exactly. So could you just leave it at that?"

"Very well, Ray." The two walked over to the car in silence. "Incidentally, Ray… why were you so… out of sorts this morning?"

"Oh, that's right, I never told you…"

Dief leapt into the back seat and the two got into the car. Ray silently started it up. Fraser cocked his head slightly.

"Ray?"

"Yes, Fraser?"

"Well? Why were you so out of sorts?"

Ray grinned as he pulled out into the road and drove off into the city. "You're a detective. You figure it out."

"Well, technically, you're the detective, Ray. I'm a Constable."

"But that doesn't mean you can't do any detecting."

"Well, still speaking technically, I shouldn't in Chicago, since I'm not allowed to do so."

"Are you admitting you poke your nose where it doesn't belong?"

"No, Ray, I'm just-"

"You _are!"_

"No, I'm not Ray."

"I'm afraid you are, Fraser."

Fraser was silent for a moment. "You're becoming very good at this, Ray."

"Thank you, Benny. Chinese?"

"No. We had that on Tuesday. Perhaps… Mexican?"

Ray nodded. "Mexican it is."

He turned right and headed for the Mexican restaurant.

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The End.

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(A/N: Well… that didn't take me anywhere near as long as I thought it would, length wise. I thought there was at least another two chapters worth in there, but… I tend to go with what comes out, so… here you go.

Before I wrap up, I'd just like to thank the following for reading and reviewing:

Hhgbh – as always, your reviews on this and my other stories are very much appreciated, and I hope to see you reviewing my other attempts at stories as I churn them out.

Lins – I'm glad to hear that more people are getting back into _Due South. _Such a great show…

BethinSg – I'm still loving your story involving the new recruit at the Consulate. Those of you who haven't read it – READ IT!

Ruby Rosetta Red – Thank you so much for your kind words, and for boosting my ego more than necessary.

Peanuts107 – Thanks for your reviews – coming from a writer such as yourself, it means a lot. Hopes for an update on 'Ride Forever'…

Dr Ingram – I love your stories, particularly 'She Called Me Benton'. But I guess you already knew that from the review. Thanks for yours, by the way.

Maroonraspberry – Thanks for your kind words. They were greatly appreciated.

Nedfan – It was very heartening to see your interest in the story and the characters (oh yeah, the compliments were pretty good too).

Star-Stallion – I'm glad you liked the humour! I was really influenced by the third and fourth seasons and their trademark silliness while I was writing this, so that was most likely the source of it.

Camcalli – Thanks for your reviews, and for your honesty, like wanting more details about Debra. I still think I left her quite bare as far as character was concerned, but I was really going for a comedic feel rather than a dramatic one with this story.

Shadow dragon04 – Thanks for the reviews!

Bob Wright – Thanks for your reviews – as I've said to other writers, it's always good to receive reviews from those who also write.

Andi – Thanks for the kind words.

Eris86 – You seem to have become more and more ego-boosting with your compliments as the story went on, and all I can say is thank you, thank you, ten times thank you!

Every1 lies – I've been glad to have you on board, and I hope you enjoyed the story, as well as its conclusion.

Paramaniac – Glad you enjoyed Fraser messing with Ray – I think it's a guilty pleasure for him, like fast food without the fattening side effects.

AEM1 – Ah, the latecomer, eh? Boo. Just kidding. Seriously, thanks for your reviews, and I hope you enjoyed the rest of the story.

And an all encompassing 'Thank You Kindly' to everyone who read the story, and of course to the lovely people who made the show in the first place and don't sue hangers-on like myself.

Don't forget to review this chapter too.

"Thank you kindly.")


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